


Promises to Keep

by AriaCessair



Series: The Morse Code Chronicles [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ajusting to a normal life, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season 2, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriaCessair/pseuds/AriaCessair
Summary: Mike doesn’t know what the future holds for them. Maybe there will be other monsters, demons – real ones and the ones in their heads. Maybe the threats will come from something less fantastic but just as frightening. There will always be battles to fight, that he knows for sure. And, if someone had asked him a couple of moments ago how he would survive all of those perils, he would have been filled with fear and uncertainty, because he has no idea how to do just that. Now, El’s hands in his, her breath tickling his damp lips, their promises resonating in his ears, he still doesn’t know how he will do it, but he is absolutely certain that he will.If only just to wait for her.*Unconsciously, the promises make their way into their lives. In the end, it is what keeps them together.





	1. The Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> My take on filling the blanks the Duffer Brothers left us on the last episode of season 2 and beyond that.

“Hey, _hey_! What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

“It’s _my_ car!” the redheaded girl howls back at him.

Steve had not even seen her get into the car. How the hell did she get to the driver’s seat so fast? And why, for the love of God, did they all have to yell so much? It took every bit of strength he still had in him not to snap right there.

“No, no, it is not” he answers, standing by the open door while the rest of the boys climb into the backseat of the already busted Camaro, noise filling the otherwise silent pumpkin patch. “It’s your psychotic brother’s ca-“

“He is _not_ my brother!” another shout.

“ _Now_ ” he continues forcibly, because, _really_! “For the sake of the heart attack I’m trying to avoid, move over, Red”.

She stares at him, fuming.

“My name is _Max_!”

“Guys, guys! We have to go!” it is Lucas, also yelling.

Steve’s hand makes its way to his forehead, but stops mid-motion. Pinching his forehead between his thumb and forefinger would only make the pain in his head worse. He settles for a glaring contest with the girl, wondering for the millionth time that day how on Earth did he end up here.

“Fine!” she acquiesces at last, moving to the passenger seat, still bristling.

As he sits, positioning his bat beside him on the seat, Dustin, sitting behind him, taps his shoulder twice. He has to fight the will to wince. Steve could feel the adrenaline leaving his body in quiet waves. His chest now ached every time he took a deeper breath, his face felt even more bloated and his grazed knuckles burned like blisters.

Right. He closes his eyes, putting his hands on the wheel. He just needs a moment to bring his thoughts back together.

_Do you still have that bat?_

_King Steve!_

_CLOSE GATE_

_Do you love me?_

_It’s bullshit!_

_Abort! Abort!_

_He is going to kill me! He is going to kill us!_

_You’re bullshit!_

_Eleven!_

_Mike…_

_I’m a pretty damn good babysitter._

_The destruction of our world as we know it._

_Light her up!_

_No one tells me what to do!_

_It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay._

_So keep us safe._

_Steve. Steve!_

“Steve!”

He opens his yes, for a moment forgetting the kids are still in the car. Four pairs of eyes bore into him.

“You okay in there, buddy?” Dustin asks.

“He is freaking out again…” Mike utters, impatient.

“No one is freaking out, okay” Steve regains his voice, starting the car. He needs to keep busy, keep the adrenaline flowing “Let’s go”.

There are no lights surrounding them and, after the Camaro headlights had flicked so brightly it had been borderline otherworldly just minutes ago, everything seemed darker. Silence had – _finally_ – fallen upon them. The atmosphere inside the car, though, is thick with restlessness. Red ( _Max!_ ) looks out the window, her arms unconsciously hugging herself. Steve can hear Dustin cracking his knuckles while Lucas cringes every time he does it.  Mike, sitting in the middle, keeps jittering his leg, rubbing his hands together. The furrowed brows, the tormented look. The resemblance to Nancy is uncanny.

 _Nancy_.

Nancy is going to skin him alive once she finds out they had left the house. Steve takes one side look at the girl beside him, taking in her scratched hands, the small bruise forming on her cheek, the murky dirt covering her from head to toe. He is sure the boys are in no better condition, making it impossible to hide their illicit adventure. Good intentions be damned.

He is such deep shit.

“Maybe…” Steve starts, running his hand through his hair while gripping the steering wheel harder with his other one “maybe I should just drive you all home. I mean, your parents, they must be worried sick…”

He trails off, wishing he didn’t sound so uncertain. He swears the look he gets from the four teens actually _burns_. They are, however, surprisingly silent.

And then…

“ _NO_!”

Mike’s voice is thunderous; much more than Steve would have thought possible. He places one hand on the back of each front seat and, for a moment, Steve thinks he will lunge for his neck. The enraged statement is followed by a series of incomprehensible shouts from the others; the message, though, is quite clear.

“We are not going _anywhere_ that is not back to Will’s house!” Lucas’ voice stands out.

“We can easily make you faint _again_ , you know?” Max threatens, scowling, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her eyes giving Steve a once-over that is both ridiculous and scary. And, despite Steve’s indignant glower in response, he is not so sure the threat is all that empty.

“No one is going to make anyone faint, alright, because Steve here is driving us back to the Byers’, right Steve?” Dustin asks, his face showing up right beside his head, looking at his friends expectantly. Max huffs, going back to staring out the window. Lucas nods to his friend and Mike still looks at him as if he could murder him with a stare. “And we are staying there until we make sure Will and Eleven are okay. _Right, Steve_?”

This time, his hand does come to his forehead, his fingers massaging his temple. It doesn’t make the migraine go away. He should know better with these kids.

“Is the Chief even going back there?” Max asks. Bewildered eyes look at her, as if she just grew another head. She seems surprised “I mean… it’s just… he’s hidden her before, right? Eleven, I mean… All this time… maybe… maybe he will just… keep her hidden…?”

There is silence again. Through the rearview mirror, Steve can see the boys looking intently at each other. The yelling seems far more appealing now.

“I heard Hopper say something about Denfield…” Dustin starts, voice low.

Shit.

“Okay, that’s it!” Steve shouts. “Enough with the crazy plans, okay! We’ve almost been killed too many times for one single day. The idea is to keep you _safe_! I can’t do that if you come up with new ways to get us killed every other hour. Now, we are going back to the Byers’, _as you wanted_ , and we’ll stay there!”

“How can you be so selfish?!” Mike roars at him. And that…

That kind of hurts. More than he would dare to admit.

“That’s rich coming from you, you selfish little brat!” Steve grips the wheel harder, both hands now, because he is fuming, trying _really hard_ to not let his hurtful anger make him topple the damn car on a curve.

Mike looks livid. The others just look dazed.

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“You heard me! Selfish. Little. Brat. You were the one giving the Chief shit for doing the right thing. And now you are giving _me_ shit for trying to keep you idiots away from trouble!” Steve is shouting, but thinks he sounds old. He feels old. The whole situation is ludicrous: he is having an argument with a thirteen-year-old about his own wellbeing in a car. Steve has never had to defend himself for actually doing the right thing. Not even in his weirdest dreams could he have foreseen this.

“You think keeping El hostage was the right thing?!” rightful indignation fuels Mike further.

“Keeping her safe, you mean?! Keeping us all safe! Giving her a place to hide from those government men that were _all over the place hunting her down_ , you mean?!”

“She wanted to see me!” Mike spells every word hard, as if to state the truthfulness of the fact that surpasses everything else.

“Yeah, but she didn’t, did she?” they are raging war through the rearview mirror.

“Because he wouldn’t let her, you moron!”

Hot-headed, defiant little shit…

“Are we talking about the same girl that killed a pack of dog-demons just hours ago? Killed that goddamn monster last year? And you think poor old Jim Hopper would be able to stop her if she really wanted to do something? Are you being purposely _obtuse_?”

Steve lets the information sink, still observing the boy through the rearview mirror as he deflates a little and his stance changes from lethal to perplexed.

“She didn’t go see you because she wanted to protect you. _She_ did the right thing. It’s time to stop being a selfish prick and grow up, Wheeler!”. His tone is harsh, harsher than Steve wanted it to be, but this kid is driving him nuts. Too smart, too volatile and too goddamn in love to see clearly. “Sometimes, staying away is the right thing to do.”

It’s a simple statement, and it had just blurted out of him as a way to put some sense into Mike’s thick head. Yet, as the declaration leaves his lips, the truth of it downs on him with the weight of a thousand planets.

_Steve…_

_It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay._

“Hum… is this still about Eleven?” Lucas, silent so far, asks a bit awkwardly.

Steve takes a deep breath, stopping the car. Max raises her hands, visibly confused, but he chooses to ignore her. Why the hell did he decide to give a life lesson to these kids in the middle of the apocalypse? He turns, looking at them in the eyes.

“Look… I’m just trying to help here, okay. I thought I made that pretty clear. But… but I can’t if you are going to be antagonizing me all the damn time.” Mike looks, for the first time in the evening, a bit ashamed. “You care for her, you care for Will, I get that. I do, too. But I’m on the brink here, and I need a little hand so we can make it through the rest of this night in one piece”.

They are silent again. Dustin looks expectantly between Steve and his friends. Lucas and Max exchange one quick glance before they both nod slightly. Mike, however, stares intently at the floor of the car, tears welling up in his eyes.

It pulls a string on Steve’s heart.

“Hey” he reaches for him, hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to look up “I’m sorry, okay. It’s going to be fine. We are all going to be fine”.

The boy still has his head down. “You don’t know that…” he murmurs.

Smart kid, indeed.

“No, but I’ll find a way. Whatever it is, I’ll find a way. We are _all_ going to be okay. I promise”.

That does get a reaction out of him. A tear-stained face stares right back at Steve. Hope and confusion and maybe just a tiny bit of annoyance reflected on those dark eyes of his.

“I promise” he repeats for good measure. But also because, Steve realizes, it is the truth. He will find a way.

Mike closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay” he sounds confident.

Dustin smiles, claps his hands before throwing an arm at Mike’s shoulder.

“Okay, we should get going, now. We are in the middle of nowhere, you know” Lucas remarks.

Max turns to the front again, and looks eagerly at Steve.

“Alright, shitheads… let’s go”.

The bruises suddenly don’t hurt so much. He thinks, actually, he might feel lighter.


	2. Carpool

The house is empty.

The lights are on, and the door is unlocked, but there is no sound coming from the other rooms, no movement whatsoever. Jonathan feels Will tense beside him, clutching a bit tighter onto their mother. They are not even through the threshold of the house yet. Nancy had flown in front of them, opening doors, the rifle still in her hands. He can see the desperation in her stance when she cannot find her brother.

Correction: the house is _almost_ empty.

“What the hell is _he_ doing here?!” Nancy practically squeals, pointing the gun at the unmoving body sprawled on their living room floor.

Billy. He knew his name was Billy, but could not remember the last name. And for all that was sacred, Jonathan couldn’t imagine what the guy was doing passed out in his house. He disentangles himself from his brother and mother, both looking baffled at the scene, and checks the body. Nancy hasn't moved, still firmly pointing the rifle to the guy. Jonathan can feel a shallow breathing when he gets closer.

“He is just unconscious”. There is a syringe-and-needle next to him, a purple bruise forming on his neck. The syringe is similar to the one they used to make Will sleep. He picks it up, showing it to the others. It's not so hard to guess what happened.

“What… what… why?” His mother positions herself in front of Will, as if to protect him from the view.

But she never manages to form a complete question. They hear the sound of a car approaching the driveway and both him and Nancy hurriedly motion to the main door. Jonathan doesn’t recognize the car, a blue Camaro with a mangled side-front. He would, however, recognize the driver from a mile away.

"Steve!"

It is the second time that evening that he and Nancy say the same thing in unison.

The person in question opens the door of the car slowly, making his way out even more so. At the same time, the other doors fly open, making way for hurried teens racing into their direction, all talking on top of each other.

"Will, how is Will?"

"Mike! Where the hell have you been?!" Nancy stops her brother before he can enter the house, holding him by the shoulders. "And why are you so _dirty_?"

The whole scene feels like a big déjà vu from last year to Jonathan.

"I'm fine, it's nothing" Mike utters lowly, immediately extricating himself from Nancy and darting inside. The other teens close behind.

"Mike!"

"It's okay, Nance. They are fine" Steve, having approached, halts Nancy.

It is then that Jonathan really looks at him.

"Jesus, man, what happened to you?"

By the porch light, Steve's face seems inflamed and scratched. There is a colorful band-aid next to his chin, blue spots are forming close to his eyes, his lips are split and Jonathan can see that his stance is a bit bent to the side, as if he is in pain. Clear signs of a beating.

Steve shakes his head. "That's a bit hard to explain..."

Nancy scowls at him before rushing inside again.

"Does it have something to do with the guy passed out on my living room?" Jonathan asks, letting Steve walk into the house and closing the door behind.

"It might..."

They come across a small commotion, with Mike and Dustin tightly hugging Will while his mother tries to coax them to let him breathe.

"I knew you would make it, man, I knew it!" Lucas exclaims, petting Will lightly on the shoulder. His brother looks ashen, as if he is about to faint, but the sparkle is back in his eyes, and he clutches to his friends as they help him to the couch with a timid smile on his face.

"Where were you guys?" Will asks, voice hoarse.

"You told us to close the gate..." Mike starts.

"We set the tunnels on fire" Dustin continues, excitedly "so we could draw the demodogs away from the gate and clear the path for Eleven to close it!"

"Eleven? Eleven is _here_?"

Mike nods. "She went there to close it... save us again..."

"Have you heard from them? The Chief and Eleven, I mean" Lucas asks Jonathan.

"Not yet..."

Jonathan notices Steve and Mike exchanging a look, but the boy quickly busies himself with comforting his brother.

"That was a really stupid idea!" Nancy angrily states, facing Steve "You could have been killed!"

"Hey, cut me some slack, okay! It wasn't _my_ idea" Steve starts, exasperated. At the expectant glances, he continues "Dustin suggested, Mike plotted, Lucas strategized and Max... executed. I just made sure they weren't too damaged in the end".

The kids pay little attention, not really affected by the statement. His mother motions for Will to go inside, get clean up and rest, the others reassuring him that they would be there the moment he wakes up.

Jonathan notices the redheaded girl, Max, standing by the unconscious guy, arms crossed in front of her and brows furrowed.

"What are we going to do about him?" she asks, tentatively.

"You know him?"

She sights. "He is my stepbrother. Came here looking for me. Attacked Lucas and Steve".

"And you did...?" Jonathan points to the syringe on the floor.

The girl shrugs. "He is a psychopath, _and_ he was hurting them".

Oh. That explains a lot.

"He is going to be really pissed when he wakes up" Lucas says. "Especially after he sees the car."

The car.

"Hey, Harrington" Jonathan starts "Grab his legs".

Steve looks confused for one second, before he jumps into action and does grab Billy's legs.

"Where are we taking him?" He asks, clearly in pain, but not relenting.

"Away". They had enough on their plates already without having to deal with a mentally deranged, surely dangerous lunatic.

Max rushes to the front door, swinging it open. "Get the car's door" Jonathan tells her, and she hurries ahead. They move slowly, the body heavier than Jonathan expected.

They drop Billy on the back seat unceremoniously. He doesn't even flinch.

Jonathan moves to the front, opening the door and sitting behind the wheel. He checks for the keys, but, before he can start the car, Steve plummets himself on the passenger seat with a grunt, bat in hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Get back inside!" He signals to Max, completely ignoring Jonathan's question.

"Hey! What are you doing?" he tries again, enunciating every word.

"What does it look like I'm doing?! I'm going with you!" is the irritated answer.

Jonathan is shocked.

"I'm just taking the car down the road..."

"We don't know what is out there, we don't know if there are more of those dog-things, Mind Flayer or whatever" he gesticulates and makes it sound like is the most obvious thing in the world.

"And..?" Jonathan is still rooted on the spot.

" _And you don't get to go alone_!" Steve's shout is exasperated, highly annoyed. “No one gets to go out _alone in the dark_ until we are sure this thing is over”.

“It’s never over…”

“My point exactly” despite the loud and irritated tone, Steve appears tired. Exhausted, really. His hand comes up to massage his temple, but he winces and stops. “Just drive, Byers...".

Jonathan realizes the futility of continuing discussing, and starts the car.

A heavy and awkward silence falls upon them as they drive. Jonathan doesn’t really know what to say, and apparently, neither does Steve. He thinks of Nancy, the sore spot between them, the real reason why this is so awkward. Thinks of all the horrible things Steve did to him last year. It is a conflicted thought, though: it feels so senseless to give importance to such things after all they have been through.

“I think this is far enough, Byers, unless you want to take him back to Hawkins High…”

Lost in his reverie, Jonathan had not, indeed, noticed how far they had gone. He stops the car, throwing the keys in the backseat. Great. This meant they now had at least another fifteen minutes’ walk before they were back at the house and free of each other’s company.

Steve stumbles out of the car, bracing himself and grimacing the whole time.

Maybe they will take longer than fifteen minutes.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks as he also leaves the car, wondering if maybe they should be heading to the hospital.

“Yes” Steve answers readily, still leaning on the car “No”. He sights, but starts walking “Everything hurts…”.

“You can’t fight for shit, Harrington…” despite the harsh words, Jonathan’s tone is light. “Why do you even bother?”

“What was I supposed to do, huh? Let that psycho beat a thirteen-year-old?” he points to the car behind them with his bat. “And God only knows what he would do to that girl afterwards…”

“You could have at least used your bat… That way, you’d have had a chance”

“I wanted to stop him, not kill him.”

“It doesn’t look like he had similar ideas…” they are walking at a very slow pace, and every now and then, Steve has to clutch his sides.

“Yeah, well, I’m not Billy Hargrove.”

Jonathan thinks back to the guy who broke his camera with so little regard last year, the way he vilified Nancy publicly over a bruised ego, thinks back to every nasty thing he uttered to both Jonathan and others through all these years. He tries hard to focus on those, but the images that linger in his mind are Steve swinging his bat against the Monster, or the look he exchanged just now with Mike, the way he ushered Max back to safety. Mostly, he thinks of the fact that he stayed, among the chaos, without any obligation whatsoever, when he could have easily left.

Steve is not Billy, but he could be. He just chose not to.

“No” Jonathan finally says “You are not”.

At that, Steve stares back at him, probably for the first time in the evening. They are walking side by side now, and Jonathan thinks he might me smiling. It’s hard to tell in the dark.

“How is… hum… how is Will?” he asks, after a minute or so of silence.

Jonathan inhales deeply.

“It’s too soon to say anything… We got it out of him, but… who knows…”

Steve nods, before continuing.

“And you? Are _you_ okay?”

It is a simple question, earnest. Yet, suddenly, Jonathan feels completely at lost. He hadn’t thought about that.

“I… I don’t know, actually…” he falters a bit, but, as he reaches an inner understanding, the words flow more fluently. “I just watched my brother get exorcised. And I… could barely stand it. I would have stopped it. If my mother and Nancy weren’t there, I would have stopped it. I don’t… know what that makes me…”

A coward, probably.

“It makes you highly unqualified to deal with all this shit… like the rest of us…”

When Jonathan doesn’t answer and just stares ahead, Steve continues.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Byers… The only ones that seem to remotely understand what is going on here are a bunch of thirteen-year-old nerds, so…”

That makes Jonathan snort a laugh, moving his self-pity aside for a moment.

“Those kids are tough…”

“The toughest” he swears there is a note of pride in Steve’s voice. “God, do you remember being thirteen?”

“We wouldn’t have lasted the first day…” they have reached the house again. Jonathan can see movement inside, someone nailing clapboards to the broken window on the front.

They stop by the door and, before entering, Jonathan continues.

“They need someone to look after them. Make sure they are in one piece to save the world again.”

Positioning the bat on his shoulder, Steve just nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mileven on the next chapter. I promise!


	3. Blood, Sweat and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got longer than the previous ones. A bit of angst ahead.

“We are almost there, kid. Just a bit longer.”

She squeezes his hand back in answer, as she had done every time the past minutes, the touch soft and light like a caress. It is almost as though she is the one reassuring him and not the other way around.

Hopper thought Eleven was going collapse in his arms the moment he carried her out of the elevator. Her limbs were loose, head bobbing from side to side like a gothic rag doll. He could feel her deep intakes of breath as they rushed through the corridors of the Lab. Still, she had tightly hung onto his collar and, every so often, her eyes would pop open and she would stare at him for a minute, face blank, as if committing him to memory. He would stare right back at her, maybe tightening his hold on her a bit more as they walked.

Now, inside his Blazer, the seatbelt seems to be the only thing keeping her upright. He tried to lay her down on the backseat, but El’s hands had clenched his coat again, not letting go. She agreed on the passenger seat, grabbing his hand the moment he was back inside. Hopper tries not to think too much on how such a miniscule thing could withhold so much power.

Because this teeny human being was possibly the strongest creature to walk this Earth. And yet, she had turned to _him_ , in the face of danger. It was _his_ hand she had grasped before fighting a monster none of them were really sure she actually could. It was onto _his_ neck she had taken comfort when it was finally done.

Hopper is so unworthy of such trust that the weight of it threatened to crush him.

 _Focus, Hopper. Don’t go in there_. If he started to ponder on that, he would be lost in the dark maze of his mind. They were running out of time and there were still so many urgent matters to be solved. Matters to keep her safe. This was okay, though, he could deal with it. Reacting, handling a crisis, regardless of how out of this world it was, was his forte.

Eleven’s skin is still ghastly, the dark lines around her eyes not fading away. Dried blood cakes above her lips and down her ears. She looks like she came out of a horror movie.

“It’s going to be okay. You are going to be okay. I promise” And he feels her thumb lightly pressuring his hand again.

 Taking care of Eleven, _really_ taking care of her, now, that was a whole different challenge. And he was going to need all the help he could entice.

Joyce’s house comes into view. Hopper blinks the headlights twice before parking the Blazer behind Jonathan’s Ford. The front door opens at the same time he opens his own door, circling the car and not paying attention to the voices behind him.

“Mike?” Eleven says as he releases her of the seatbelt, scooping her in his arms again. Her voice comes out in a shallow breath, so frail the cold November breeze nearly mutes it. “Almost” he tells her.

 “Chief?”

“Oh my god!”

“Is she okay?”

“Can we help?”

“Is the gate closed?”

They all talk at the same time, flocking around him with concerned looks and eager hands. Hopper is too focused on keeping El steady is his arms to notice who says what. Joyce isn’t there and neither is Will, that he notes. It is the figure holding the door open, though, that gets Hopper’s attention. Mike, looking paler than a skeleton and rooted to the spot, doesn’t say a word, just stares at the girl in his arms. Eleven’s eyes had been shut so far, but she opens them when they reach the porch.

“Mike”

Again, the sound is lighter than a whisper. She reaches her hand to him tentatively, and even though Hopper doesn’t stop, the boy manages to grasp her hand.

“El, El, I’m here!” he says as he falls out of the spell he had been under.

They move together to the couch, Hopper finding it difficult to place her there gently, because she has started to squirm is his arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay”

It takes a moment for him to realize it is Mike saying this, and not himself.

Mike kneels by the couch, Eleven’s hand still in his. He tries to motion for her to lay down, but she props herself onto the boy until she has both arms around his neck, all bloodshot eyes and ragged breathing.

“Mike… Mike…” her voice is louder now.

“I’m here… I’m not going anywhere.”

“ _Mike!_ ”

And then she starts crying.

No, not just crying. Fat tears fall down her eyes while boisterous sobs rage through her body. He can see that she is shaking hard, yet her hands clinch so hard onto Mike’s navy hoodie her knuckles have turned white. The boy’s arms encircle her too, his hands moving from her back to her head in a frantic manner.

“El, it’s okay. It’s over, it’s okay. You are home” Mike says by her neck, tears of his own staining his face and a tightness to his voice. Eleven’s sobs just get louder.

Hopper doesn’t know what to do. He considers disentangling the teens, giving her space to calm down and breathe. But then he sees the look on her face, even if partially hidden in Mike’s hair, and it downs on him.

She is _relieved_.

Eleven is sobbing so hard because the adrenaline has finally left her body. She feels safe enough to actually let go, defenses down. She is hiccupping now, the sobs turning her breathing to a wheeze.

It breaks Hopper’s heart.

Mike takes her face in his hands, his thumbs cleaning the tears on her cheeks. El’s hands move to his hair, his face, his shoulders, as if she is not sure what to touch. The sounds she makes as she breathes and wails and shudders pierce through the silent room. “El, here, please…” the boy pleads, taking her hand and planting it flat on his chest, keeping it there. He bents his forehead until it is touching hers, taking a deep breath and coaxing her to do the same. She places her other hand on the back of his head, a gesture he mimics.

“You are home. It’s okay. I’m here. We are together, now. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

Mike continues murmuring until her sobs have subsided to silent tears and only light tremors run through her body.

Hopper feels a hand lightly touching his arm. It’s Joyce, skin still shining with sweat under the jumper she is wearing, understanding in her eyes as she stares at him. He looks around, somehow imagining the room to be empty. But they are all there: the kids, Mike’s sister, the Harrington boy. They pay little attention to him, all gazing silently and perplexed at Mike and Eleven.

He runs his hand through his hair, his face, takes a deep breath of his own. He needs to go. Now. He motions to the teens on the couch, their faces now so close their noses are touching, but Joyce beats him to it.

“Hey” she starts, voice serene, placing a gentle hand on both Mike and El’s shoulder. They look at her, but don’t let go of each other. “How about we get you clean up, sweetheart, huh? You’ll feel better after a shower and some clean clothes…”

Hopper sees her fingers tighten their grip on Mike’s collar, more tears coming down her eyes.

“El, it’s okay” the boy says, taking her hands in both of his, eyes locked with hers “I’ll be _right here_. I’m not leaving you ever again. I _promise_.”

El touches her forehead to his one more time. “Promise…”

Mike helps her up, Joyce taking over the moment she is standing. Her legs are still shaky, Hopper can see, and Mike’s sister comes to help, signaling to her brother to seat back. Hopper stops Joyce before they move with a hand on her forearm.

“Will?”

“He is asleep. Jonathan is with him.”

He nods, and watches Eleven go, bolstered by both Joyce and Nancy.

“Chief?” is Lucas’ timid voice “Did… did she close it? Is it over?”

Hopper’s gaze bores into the boy, into all of the ones surrounding him.

“Yeah” he says. At least, for now.

The atmosphere changes instantly as collective sights of relief are released. Some of the kids fall back to the ground, others move to the kitchen and drop into the chairs there. Hopper’s eyes move back to the Wheeler boy. He is still sitting in front of him, hadn’t moved, but is now staring keenly at his hands in his lap. And, he notices, they are smudged with blood. _Her blood_.

“Kid, c’mon… come with me”

Hopper expects a fight, that he would stomp his feet and not move a muscle. But Mike just gazes back at him with swollen eyes. As he gets up, he thinks the kid looks… resigned. He guides them outside, closing the door behind them, wondering how the hell is he going to say what he needs to say to this kid.

But again, before he can do anything, he is beaten to it.

“I know what you are going to say” Mike starts, facing him with his eyes closed “I know… and you’re right. I should be away from her. It’s the right thing to do, to keep her safe…” the tears start again, this time stronger, making his voice falter and his body shake “B-but… but I can’t, okay. _I can’t_. Not again. It’s s-selfish, I know it is. I guess… I _am_ a selfish prick. But you c-can’t take her away from me. You can’t. _Please_ …”

 _God_. What is this? What happened to this kid? Has… _has he done this_? That… that is not… _he doesn’t want this_. He doesn’t want any of them to suffer anymore. He is trying to fix things.

He places his hands on the boy’s shoulders and he opens his eyes. There are tears still in there, but they don’t mask the depth of his dark irises. Hopper has a feeling, looking into them right now, a feeling he only gets when he does the same with Eleven: that he is staring at a very old soul, trapped in this child’s body. On any given day, he would say this whole thing about souls is crap. But these kids know too much, have been through too much, and it shows in their eyes. The shiver that runs down Hopper’s spine has little to do with the November air around them.

“Look at me, kid. That’s _not_ why I’m here, okay? I’m not going to keep you apart. I won’t”

“Do you promise?”

He suddenly knows where El gets her whole promises fixation.

“I do. I promise. I’ll do my very best to keep this from happening” Mike releases a relieved sigh, his shoulders un-tensing under Hopper’s hands. “But right now, I need your help”.

His attention perked, Hopper continues.

“I’m going back to the lab. No, _listen_ ” he shakes him a bit, lightly but enough to stop any argument the boy is about to utter. “I have to go. When the power came back, so did the cameras. Do you understand what that means? It means they have us on tape, Eleven and I”.

“They will know about her” Mike interrupts, realization downing on him.

“Yes! Those military I called, they are coming and they will head to the lab. Who knows, they might be there already…” he does _not_ want to think about that possibility. “The thing is, if they find out about her, they will come back and hunt her down again. I _won’t_ let that happen. I’m going back there to destroy those tapes”.

Hopper tries to mask the desperation he feels at the thought of it already being too late with a harsher tone in his voice. The boy nods at him, understanding.

“How can I help?”

Now comes the difficult part.

“I need you to do something for me. These men… They might come here. I might be too late; I might _fail_.”

“No!”

“ _Mike_ ” it is so wrong, so unfair for him to ask this _boy_ for help. But the edges between right and wrong had become blurred when Eleven came into his life. He had already done so much shit in the past; he had a feeling that maybe, maybe this kid, smart and defiant and guided by something bigger than Hopper could understand, was going to help him do better. “If they come here, I want you to take El. Take her and run into the woods. Don’t look back. You run and you hide and you stay hidden. She is good at that. You stay hidden until I come and find you.”

“She can barely stand…” the boy says in a whisper.

“ _I know!_ ” _What was he doing?_

“What about Will? What about the others?”

“Will has his mother” and Hopper is pretty certain Joyce would murder anyone, _anything_ that came for her son. “She will take care of him, of the others too. But El…”

El needed to run. If shit hit the fan, she would have to go and leave the others behind. Hopper knew this, and he had accepted that responsibility willingly the moment he took her in. These past days, this whole ordeal, though, had made him realize that it was not enough. _He_ was not enough for her. And now he is throwing part of that responsibility onto the shoulders of a thirteen-year-old.

Hopper gets to witness the exact moment clarity hits Mike.

“I’m not leaving her side. I’ll stay with her, no matter what.”

He doesn’t say _I promise_ , but the assurance in his voice somehow means more than the words. It cements the commitment.

“I know it’s too much. I know you are just a kid. And _I’m sorry_ , but I need you to understand this-”

“No, _you_ need to understand” a bit of the boy that lunged against a man three times his size out of anger and frustration showing in his voice. “You were not there the day we found her, alone in the rain. You were not there when I went against everyone to hide her and keep her safe. Why do you think I did that?!”

“Because you are good, kid!” He takes him by the shoulders again “Because you have a good heart, but you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into back then” he takes both of Mike’s hands, turning them up. His palms are still dappled with blood “ _This_ is what you are getting yourself into.”

And it’s not the blood that matters, it’s everything that comes with it. Tonight, they might be running from the government, and tomorrow it might be something else. It will never stop. El is extraordinary, but she is also dangerous. The power she has within her is immeasurable, and it can destroy her and everything surrounding her. It should be enough to push Hopper away, but it only served to bring him closer. He doesn’t say any of this, but as he observes Mike glaring at his hands, he thinks the kid might understand.

“And you think this scares me?”

“It should” because Hopper is _terrified_. Terrified to the point that has him asking a kid for assistance.

“It doesn’t” he continues “I mean, it _is_ scary, but I’m not afraid. It’s not about this” he brings his bloody palm up again. “Never was… She is _just a girl_. I … want to help her and be with her. I know she is stronger than all of us, but she is also so… fragile. It was never a question, to protect her… I just reacted” Mike takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders “Now I know what it was, what it means. And I would do it again a thousand times”.

When Mike stares at him now, Hopper thinks back on the old souls.

He pulls the boy into a hug, not knowing what else to do. Nothing is certain and they are still in danger – Hopper thinks they will always be in danger –; but at least now he knows that there is someone better than him to keep El safe.

He has the impression this is not just for tonight.

“This might be for nothing… it may take hours for them to even reach Hawkins”

“If they come, I’ll take care of her” Mike’s voice is muffled in Hopper’s jacket, the boy holding him tight. “You can _always_ count on me to protect her.”

Before he can react to that statement, the front door swings open.

“What are you doing outside?” Joyce asks, arms hugging herself, trying to keep the cold at bay.

“Where is Eleven?” he asks. Mike disentangles himself from him, hands discreetly cleaning the tears on his cheek.

“She’s with Nancy. Get back inside, it’s too cold”

Hopper nods to the boy, and he heads for the door.

“I have to go back to the lab, now” Hopper starts, but Joyce’s eyes bulge and she immediately motions to grab his arms. He stops her before she can.

“No! No, you can’t. _You can’t_! I’m not going to let you go back in there alone!”

“It will be okay. Joyce! I _have_ to go”

“She is right” Mike’s voice breaks in before they can continue with the argument. His face is illuminated the way it gets when he has one of his brilliant ideas. “She’s right, you can’t go alone” and he sprints inside.

Hopper can only watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Mileven reunion, but not from their point of view. On the next one, though... I promise!


	4. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response this had! You guys are great!

He can´t stop staring at her hair.

Somehow, every time Mike thought of her through this last year, El’s head had been shaven. It’d never occurred to him her hair would actually _grow_.

They have cleaned her and dressed her up in one of Mrs Byers’ wool jumpers and Will’s pajama pants. She could barely keep her eyes open when Mike returned to her, but had reached for his hand the moment he came into view. Nancy had suggested she should lay down properly before she passed out from exhaustion.

She is asleep on Mrs Byers’ bed now, laying on her side, while Mike seats on the small space by the edge of the bed, legs stretched in front on him, his back to the wall. Her forehead in touching his hip and she still has one of his hands clutched tightly in hers, close to her chest. He can feel her heart beating against the back of his hand, her breathing heating the exposed skin on his arm in warm waves.

He reaches with his free hand to touch one of her chestnut tendrils, drying now, watching mesmerized as it coils around his finger.

Mike remembers, once, when he was six, a hummingbird entering his room on a summer afternoon. There had been a commotion in the house, Nancy and his mother and himself all trying to catch the bird before it got hurt. In the end, it had been Mike who’d managed to get it when it landed, apparently exhausted, on his bed. Despite being so worn out, the little thing had fluttered its wings swiftly and with all its force as it’d lay trapped in the confinements of his hands, before it was set loose.

Holding El just moments ago had felt exactly like holding that hummingbird.

“She looks nothing like how I thought she would…”

Mike is drawn out of his reverie by Will. He is standing by the bedroom door, complexion still not shy from a corpse. He marches towards the bed on unsteady legs, stopping by Mike’s side and intently looking at El’s sleeping form.

“It’s the hair… Dustin mentioned so many times she had her head shaven, I had it stuck on my mind.”

“I’m still getting used to it” he grabs his friend’s forearm “How are you holding up? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Will inhales deeply, petting Mike’s hand on his arm before moving away. “I feel like I’ve slept a lot, lately. Jonathan is out cold in my room. I just…” another deep sight “Can I just stay here?”

“Of course.” Mike watches as Will settles himself on the other side of the bed, wincing and holding his side as he does, assuming the same position as his. His friend’s eyes go back to El and he smiles a bit.

“I never told you, but… I remember her… from the Upside Down.” Mike looks at him, surprised. “I mean, not her face. Everything was blurry and grey there… But I remember her voice, telling me to hold on a little longer. And this feeling… of warmth, when she held my hand.” Will stares at his own hands, at Mike’s as it disappears, clasped in El’s. “It was the only warm thing in that place. It gave me hope…”

Their voices are low, the darkened room making it seem like they are sharing secrets. Mike stares earnestly at his friend. Without ever meeting him, El was already such an integral part of Will’s life.

“She’s pretty…” his friend says at last, with a smile.

It makes Mike smile too.

“Hey, you’re up!” Dustin walks in, excitedly looking at Will. Lucas and Max trail behind, the girl hitting Dustin’s shoulder and motioning for him to keep his voice low. Will shuffles a bit to the middle of the bed and Dustin seats next to him; Max and Lucas taking place on each foot of the bed.

“Can we get you anything?” Max places a hand on one of Will’s sock cladded foot.

“It’s okay… I just… didn’t want to sleep anymore.” Dustin throws his arm across his friend’s shoulders and just nods.

Lucas gazes Eleven with a worried complexion on his face. “She’s just drained, right? She… she will be alright… right?”

Mike inhales, runs his thumb across El’s knuckles, but doesn’t answer. He _thinks_ she will be alright. But even if she is, he doesn’t know if _everything else_ will be.

“Mike…” Dustin calls, timidly “You can talk to us, man… I mean… you could have also told us, you know, before, that you were hurting… because of El. We are your friends.”

“You could have told us about Dart…” without thinking, he answers in an angry hiss. Anger seems to be his first impulse to everything these days. Eleven stirs next to him, and he disentangles his hand from hers. Dustin’s whole face falls and, Mike thinks, was there a hole in the ground, his friend would have leaped right into it.

He sighs, runs his hands through his hair. He doesn’t want to cause any more trouble. There is this black cloud of secrets among them, though, stifling and paralyzing. And Mike had enough of it. “I’m not accusing you, Dustin. I’m just saying… You could’ve told us sooner, before it got so out of hand…”

He turns to Lucas “And you... you could’ve let us know before telling Max the truth” and before the boy’s heated comeback erupts, he clarifies “It was not your own secret to tell.”

Lucas is often the voice of reason within their party. As so, Mike finds it almost amusing as he observes his friend shrink in his seat and resign in the face of his mistake.

“And Max” he continues, the girl raising her head to face him “if we’d known about your brother, we’d have helped you from the start.”

“You were being a total _jerk_ to me the whole tim-”

“ _I know_ … I know and _I’m sorry_ ” he doesn’t raise his voice, but he wants to make sure she understands. Because he _has_ been _really_ stupid, and he wants it over. “But I’d have never backed down from helping you, had I known. You are in the party” he sees the girl’s eyes shine with unshed tears “Even if I said you weren’t, you are” How could she not be? “And we would’ve never let you deal with that shit alone”.

Mike looks around at his friends, all subdued and contrite. Eleven is back to a peaceful sleep next to him. They, Mike included, had been hiding from their problems for longer than he cared to admit. They cannot hide anymore. He had a feeling if they didn’t settle this now, it would come back to haunt them. “We have all made mistakes… But _this_ is our party. It’s our greatest strength. And, I think, if we can just go back to trusting each other…”

“Friends don’t lie” Lucas mutters, voice small.

“No, but friends forgive” Will says, after being silent for so long.

The wisdom of the statement cuts them deep.

“I didn’t tell you about Eleven because I thought I was going crazy…” Mike says, after a deep intake of breath “I’m sorry”.

There is a chorus of _I’m sorry_ , justifications that none of them really needs mumbled along. Will remains silent, staring at his lap. They wait for him. “I’m not… there are things I’m not ready to talk yet…” Mike sees tears welling up in his eyes as his voice cracks.

“You don’t have to” Max assures him, again with a hand on his foot.

“We’ll be here for you all the same” Lucas echoes the feeling.

“But it’s nice to know that, when I want to, you will be there… You’ll _all_ be there”

“We stick together” Dustin complements after a moment. “No matter what.”

“Crazy together” Mike says with a smile.

In the end, it’s simple. The weight that had been sitting on their chests unbeknownst to them all is suddenly lifted with that promise. Mike reaches for Will’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, silently thanking him for bringing their party back together.

They settle for a comfortable silence, their ordeals finally catching up with them. Will is the first to collapse, despite being the only one not wanting to sleep. Mike watches as he slides from his seating position until he is laying on his side, curled up on himself, his back almost touching El’s. Dustin is next, head resting on a pillow against the wall as quiet snores leave his parted lips. Max and Lucas lay in a yin-yang formation by the foot of the bed. Lucas pilled as many pillows as he could find, arm nonchalantly thrown around Max’s shoulders, her forehead almost touching his chest. The bed is not so big to accommodate six teenagers, and they all end up touching one way or another, but it feels good like this. Reassuring.

Mike stays awake, watching over his friends, over El. He is sore, and just _so_ exhausted, but he fights sleep with all his might every time it threatens to overtake him. He manages to intertwine his fingers with El’s again, focusing on her heartbeat. He also gets to witness Nancy hastily entering the room, Mrs Byers and Jonathan close behind, and stopping once they take in the scene. His sister smiles, muttering something about a pile of puppies, and leaves, coming back moments later with an assortment of blankets both women distribute on top of them.

He calculates it’s just before dawn when his arm goes limp. He has to disentangle his hand from El’s to massage it, pins and needles running through it until they reach his shoulder. At that, she stirs, frown burrowing and an almost inaudible whimper escaping her lips. Mike looks around the room, double-checking that all his friends are still fast asleep. He gently places Eleven’s curls – he is still _amazed_ by them – behind her ear, exposing it. With his thumb, he starts circling the outer layer of her ear. It’s a whisper of a touch, barely there. His mother would do this to him as a child, probably to Nancy and Holly too. El’s features relax, her breathing back to its cadenced pace.

“I missed you so much” he confides in a sigh.

Her eyes flutter open.

“El!” he feels his cheeks heating up.

She blinks a little, but her lips curve up in small smile when she focuses on him.

“Are... are you feeling any better?” Mike gets up, kneeling by the bed to be eye-level with her as his knees crack and hurt.

“Tired…” her voice is small, breathy.

“Go back to sleep. You don’t have to wake up, now…” she does closes her eyes, but opens them one moment later.

“Hopper?”

“He had to leave for a bit… he should be back soon” Mike hopes he is telling the truth.

“Can we… wait for him?”

“You need to rest” he gently presses her hand “I’ll wait for him and wake you up when he arrives…”

“We wait together… a com-compromise”

He doesn’t really understand the compromise part, but she is squeezing his hand, trying to stand, and Mike realizes he has no choice. He gets up, places her arm around his shoulders and pulls her up by the waist. He is considering taking her in his arms, but doesn’t really trust his muscles after sitting in an uncomfortable position for so long, when he notices her staring at their friends asleep in the bed. Her expression is fond, until her eyes land on the forms of Lucas and Max, still laying close together.

“Yeah, that happened… It’s okay, though. She is okay. I didn’t like her, in the beginning. But she helped us _a lot_. And… she seems to like Lucas as much as he likes her, so…”

Eleven’s eyes bulge a little, and then sink, but she doesn’t say anything.

They slowly move to the living room, passing by Mrs Bayers, asleep on the armchair she moved to the front of Will’s room. Jonathan and Nancy sit on either side of the couch by the window, both dozing off. His sister still has the rifle in her hands. Mike helps El sitting on the other sofa, facing the door. Her head comes to rest on his shoulder the moment he sits. It feels oddly familiar, and Mike remembers three hundred and fifty some days ago, seating on the bleachers of Hawkins Middle. The weight of her head on his shoulder still feels the same.

“Day thirty-nine” her voice comes hushed, surprising him.

“What?”

“The first time you said you missed me... Day thirty-nine.”

He stares at the top of her head until she moves to stare back at him.

Mike feels a shiver running down his spine and tears in the back of his eyes again. It suddenly all pours out of him.

“El, I… I… I was so scared. I _hoped_ you were okay, and, sometimes I could swear I felt you there, but… I didn’t _know_. And I was angry all the time because it _hurt_ ” and he never dealt well with the pain.

Eleven takes his hand in both of hers, placing it on her lap. “I’m sorry…”

She shouldn’t have to apologize. He should be less of an asshole and tell her that, but he is still hurt and now, something else is there. What if… she didn’t _want_ to see him? It is an irrational thought, specially after how much she clung to him when she came back and had not let go so far, but fear is irrational, and he had been afraid for so long.

“I just… wanted to know you were okay. Just that…”

“No…”

“No?”

She shakes her head, a sad smile dancing on her lips.

“You would have come for me. You would have found me” her hand moves to his forehead, fingers brushing his skin as softly as a feather “You are good in here” her hand travels then to his chest, placing it over his heart “And in here… you wouldn’t let me be alone”.

Mike cannot move. His mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out and his skin is heating up where she had just touched.

“And the bad men would come for you…” her brows furrow.

“What bad men?” his voice is hoarse.

“I saw them… in your house. They would hurt you. I didn't want you to get hurt, but… I missed you… from day one.”

He thinks about what Steve said before. He hated it then, but it is the absolute truth. El cared for him enough to stay away, to keep him safe. It hurt her just as much as it did to him. He shouldn’t take comfort in the fact that she hurt too, but it somehow makes him feel less alone, sharing the pain. Mike bents his head, her hand still over his heart, until his forehead touches hers. Touching her gave him a reassurance words never could. And now he _could_ touch her. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, El. I just… don’t want to be away from you again… I can’t.”

Eleven takes the hand he still has in her lap and places it over her own heart. He feels it beating faster than his, like the wings of the hummingbird he once held.

“You won’t. I promise”

Her eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as their faces come closer. Mike closes his eyes and just breathes her in. He feels lighter now. His party is okay, and El is with him. The monsters are still out there, and the world could crumble down on them again, but as he holds her, he thinks they might be alright.

They hear the scratching of tires on the gravel. Mike gets up, squeezing El’s hand again.

“Stay here, okay?” he sees his sister and Jonathan waking up on the other sofa as he marches to the door. Hopper is already there when he opens it.

“And..?” he asks, expectantly.

The man smiles tiredly, places an ash-covered hand on his shoulder and answers “It’s okay, kid. It’s going to be fine.”

Mike lets out a relieved breath as the Chief passes by him, going straight to Eleven.

“Hey, shithead! Come give me a hand, would you?”

Steve is still by the passenger door of the Blazer, face and hair dirty with ashes, bat in one hand and several plastic bags in the other.

“You got me into this, now you have to help” the words are harsher than his tone, and he even smiles a bit when he shoves a few of the bags in Mike's hands.

“What is all this?” Mike peeks inside one of the bags. Cartoons of eggs, bread and… are those Eggos?

“Breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Eleven and Max!


	5. Atonement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, this chapter turned out huge! I hope you like it! Thank you so much for your support and the highly undeserving compliments you gave me. I said and repeat it: you are all awesome!

“Okay, kid… what’s going on?”

Eleven doesn’t look at him, still playing with a half-eaten waffle on her plate. It says a lot about the state she is in that she lost her appetite.

“Is your head still hurting?” Hopper asks, sitting on the chair opposite to her, knowing the answer already. She shakes her head no, still not looking up. Even if her head _did_ hurt, it would not have stopped her from eating. He witnessed, two days ago, when she could barely stand, as she shoved down four Eggos in a row, followed by a full plate of scrambled eggs. She’d even let the Wheeler kid put syrup on her eggs.

Wheeler.

“Is this about Mike? Did you guys have a fight or something?”

She shakes her head again, throwing a longful look to the SuperCom radio placed neatly on the sofa. It had been the first thing Hopper acquired when he headed to the city. She could now talk to her friends without draining herself. It’d also served as his olive branch, a token of his commitment to not keep her away from the important people in her life.

“I know you want to see him, but he's still grounded” Mike had it worse, missing two days of school, theoretically to hang out with Will while the boy was sick. His parents didn’t show a lot of understanding, to say the least. “When he is out of house-arrest, we will arrange for you to meet, okay?” within reason, he thought this could actually work. _Within reason_.

El nods, smiling a bit, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her fork still moves pieces of the waffle from one side to the other on the plate. She is back to wearing the oversized black and torn t-shirt she showed up in three days ago. It’s different without the eyeshadow and the slicked back hair, though, like she is trying to figure out who she is right now.

“I’m running out of ideas here… just spit it out.”

“Spit?” she does look at him, then, a bit disgusted.

“You’re awfully subdued, kid… what's the problem?” he repeats.

Eleven takes a deep breath, back straightening up and expression so solemn Hopper thinks she is going to face a firing squad at any minute.

“I… I’ve made a mistake.”

He takes her in for a moment. A million things go through his mind.

“Okay… Does it have something to do with your time in Chicago?” because she had told him, slowly and among tears, about the woman she calls sister. Hopper still doesn’t know all the details, only that this said sister is up to no good, despite having created a bond with El. If she is coming here, Hopper needs to prepare.

“No” she answers. The breath Hopper releases decompresses him like a balloon. Of all the scenarios he’d come up with in the last ten seconds, the ones involving her sister had been the worst. Taking her out of the equation made things so much easier. The people from the lab were cleaning their own mess, no one had payed two minds about the fact that the security tapes had been missing – he thinks Owens might have something to do with that – and the good townsfolk of Hawkins, Indiana were just as oblivious to everything as they were before November, 1983.

El still looks afflict, though.

"People make mistakes, kid. It's kind of the norm around here" he starts "We just go around and try to fix it..." And _oh, boy,_ did he know about it. "Is it something you can fix?"

She shrugs, miserable.

Before he can come up with something else to say, she interjects quietly.

"Can you help me?"

That got his attention.

"I'm listening."

 

*

 

Steve's car was not in its usual spot in Hawkins High parking lot when Max skates there. For the past two days, he had been the one to drive her home. It had been an unannounced agreement: he'd showed up at the end of last period, grumpily telling her to get in the car because there was no way in hell he was going to let her ride with her maniac of a brother ( _stepbrother_ ). Either him, or Jonathan, or Mrs Byers would drive her from that day on. No room for discussion.

"You don't want to tell your folks about it, that's your choice. But I want a clean consciousness, knowing that I did everything I could to avoid that asshole from beating anyone ever again."

He had made it sound like it was all about his own peace of mind, but Max could see the worry in his eyes. It had given her a sensation of warmth inside her chest she was very unfamiliar with as of lately.

Only, Steve was not here today. Neither was Jonathan or Mrs Byers. She did, however, recognize The Chief of Police's Blazer. The man in question was leaning on the front of the car, cigarette in hand.  He waves at her when she comes into his view, throwing the cigarette away.

"They sent the specialized artillery?" She asks, picking her skateboard up.

"Something like that, yeah" he motions to the car with his head "Let's go."

They ride in silence for a few moments, but Max feels awkward.

"You know, you guys don't have to keep doing this. I can take the school bus…"

"Doesn't the bus take like, an hour and half because it keeps going round and round?" he’d lit up another cigarette, and she watches the smoke dance in front of him. It seems less of a disgusting habit than it does with her stepbrother.

"Yeah, so?" she would have to start her days super early, and arrive super late. But anything was better than spending time with Billy.

"And isn't this a better option?"

She sighs.

"It is, but... I don't know. You guys keep going out of your way to drive me in and out of home. Doesn't seem fair..." Max doesn’t know how to thank them, that’s the truth. She’s irascible, and she lashes out on people sometimes. She doesn’t mean to do it, but she can’t help herself. It makes her feel highly undeserving of so much attention.

He laughs a bit.

"Don't sweat it, kid. It's no trouble" he throws the cigarette away, turning to her and, for one second, Max thinks he looks unsure. "I actually have a proposition for you..."

Oh.

"Okay, I'm interested" she perks herself on the seat, promptly staring at him.

"Eleven wants to see you."

The silence that stretches weights a thousand tons.

To say Max is shocked would be an understatement. The look on her face must make it crystal clear, though, because The Chief starts fidgeting uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, _what_?" her voice cuts through the stillness in the car like a knife.

"She asked to see you" Hopper gazes straight ahead, both hands on the wheel.

"No, you got it wrong" Max shakes her head, crossing her arms in front of her "She asked to see Mike. You know, tall for his age, a bit on the skinny side, a bit of a jerk sometimes. _Mike_. It's with an M as well, that's probably what got you confused. Or maybe the freckles."

The Chief smiles a little, unperturbed by the sassiness "I think I can tell the difference between you misfits" he turns to her again "She asked for you."

Max would feel less perturbed if the ground just opened under them and swallowed both of them up.

"And, what, you're just going to hand me to her, so she can kill me?" there is a panicky edge to her voice she tries very hard to hide. She fails.

" _What_?!" the car sways a bit on the road, the grip The Chief had on the wheel wavering for a moment.

"She hates me!" she all but yells.

Eleven was still a very painful subject for Max. She had been so excited, _oh so very excited_ to finally meet her. Eleven had been just an idea, a far memory from a fantastic past she was not part of. She had shaped the people Max now calls friends, their lives changed by her profoundly, and Max herself would never have a chance to be touched by her the same way. But then, the girl had come back, all badass and punk warrior-like, a real life super-hero, and Max had seen it as a chance for her. She very rarely opened up so much to people like she had done for Eleven. It was no surprise, then, how disappointed she felt by the treatment the girl had given her. Like a bucket of icy cold water was dumped on Max when the girl in question had treated her so callously. She had done nothing wrong, Max is pretty certain of that, and she doesn’t understand exactly why Eleven hates her, but that had become pretty clear.

It’d _hurt_ , dammit. More than every time Wheeler was an asshole, or every time the boys didn’t let her in into their secrets. Things with the boys were now heading into the right direction, but with Eleven… Her expectations had been too high, and the disappointment had brought her crashing down.

The Chief stops the car, parking in front of a fancy house.

"The hell is this about killing?" he is still shocked, but now sounds angry.

"I told you, she hates me" Max manages not to shout this time.

"And you think I’d just take you there, if that was truth? What kind of policeman do you think I am?"

"The kind that Eleven has wrapped around her finger…"

Max wonders how much impudence The Chief will take from her before snapping.

“What the… What is that supposed to mean, huh?”

 She doesn’t answer, looking out the window. They were _all_ enraptured by Eleven and Max feels disgusted. She just isn’t sure if she is disgusted with that fact itself or with the bitterness she feels regarding it.

The Chief inhales deeply, and she can see with the corner of her eyes that he is rubbing his face, distressed. “Look, kid, she is _not_ going to kill you, okay. That’s not… She just… I can _assure_ you, she won’t hurt you…”

“Is that even safe? I mean, aren’t you hiding her anymore?”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to do things differently this time…”

“By giving her everything she wants?” Max knows she is being annoying “I’m not a gift for you to hand to her!”

He sighs, frustrated.

“Okay, here is the deal: you see that road?” she hadn’t noticed, but they are almost at the crossroads. The Chief is pointing to the one on the left “That’s the way to your house. You say the word, and we head that way. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. However,” at that, he turns to her again and puts a large hand lightly on her shoulder “If you agree, we go the other way, and maybe you and El can solve whatever it is that’s between you.”

Max just stares at him. She cannot say the offer is not intriguing. Yes, she is hurt. Yes, she had gotten into her head to try and ignore the other girl’s existence as a way to ignore her own chagrin. But this now feels like yet another chance. She is still unsure, though. Not that she is afraid of what Eleven can do to her, although that can be quite a scary thought. Being rejected again, though, that scares her the most. The Chief continues.

“Here” he takes the walkie-talkie he has attached to his hip and shows it to her “if you feel uncomfortable, or you want to leave at any moment, any at all, there’s a radio there. You contact me, and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“You are not staying?”

“I had the past two days off at the station. I should go there and check if the place is still standing…” he arranges the radio back in its place “But I’ll come back in a few hours. Earlier, if you call me.”

“Do you promise?” Max doesn’t know why she asks, but she does. _Since when did she start trusting this man?_

“What is it with you kids and the promises?!” he asks, exasperated “ _Yes_ , I promise.”

She gazes him a moment longer, weighting her options. It downs on her she had already made her choice by not stepping out of the car earlier.

Max nods and The Chief smiles, starting the car again and taking the right.

The ride is mostly silent, and she stares out the window, trying not to let anxiety take over. They turn right by a large oak tree and continue down a road until they reach a dead-end.

“We have to walk, now” The Chief says, as he leaves the car. She follows.

Max hugs her skateboard tightly, holding it in front of her like a shield. The cold autumn sun filters through the tree leaves. It makes the woods surprisingly beautiful, but Max is too caught up in her own head to notice. The sound of the leaves and twigs crushing under her feet seems way too loud in her ears, her senses are completely heightened. She can see a cabin in the distance, smoke coming out of its chimney. The Chief stops her before she continues walking, pointing to an almost invisible wire she was about to trip in.

When they get to the porch, The Chief asks again, voice concerned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…” _No_.

The man nods and knocks two times, then one, then three on the door. Max hears the metallic sound of the locks opening and then sees the door swinging slowly and on its own.

“I’ll be on channel ten” he says, places a hand on her shoulder before he turns and leaves.

Max takes a deep breath, and steps in.

Her first impression is that the place looks… cozy. There is a fire in the corner, blankets thrown around the sofa and the armchair. The smell of woodsmoke is not overbearing, mixed with something sweet. Probably the leftover Eggos on the table by the wall. The TV is on, but the volume is completely out. The radio, she notices, is standing by the clapboard covered window, Morse Code sheets attached to the wall right next to it. Movement on her right catches her attention and Max turns.

Eleven is standing by the door of the only room in the cabin. She looks... different than Max remembers. Not the gothic warrior that saved them, not the desperate girl clinging to Mike for dear life, nor the ragdoll that could barely stand on her own the morning after. Her curls are wilder, and she is wearing Mrs Byers' sweater under her overalls. She is only wearing her socks and, for some reason, Max thinks it makes her look extremely vulnerable. She looks at Max like a dear caught in the headlights would.

"Hi" Max says, hugging her skateboard a little tighter.

"Hello" Eleven’s voice is raspy, low.

Max bounces on her feet for a moment, not knowing what to do. Eleven looks intently at her skateboard.

"Do you... like it?"

"You... walk on it?" The brunette asks.

"Hum, it's a skateboard, so... you skate on it. Like this" she puts the skate on the ground, stepping on it and moving in the small space of the living area. Eleven's lips quirk up a bit, almost smiling. "I can teach you, someday" she says, before she can actually think about what she is saying.

The other girl's eyes beam and she smiles truly for a moment, before her expression falls down again in a frown.  Max sighs. _This was turning into such a bad day_.

"Look" she starts, moving to seat on the couch, feeling suddenly tired "You called me here, okay. You clearly despise me, so I have no idea _why_ you actually want me here. Unless I _was right_ and you are going to ki-"

"I'm sorry!" El blurts out, fast and voice louder than before.

Max just stares at her.

"For _what_ , exactly, are you sorry?"

"I was mean to you" she moves then, tentatively sitting on the arm of the couch "I'm sorry..." She looks down at her hands on her lap.

"You see, that's the point. You were mean to me, yes, but why? We've never even met before!" Max tries not to sound so exasperated, but fails.

"I saw you... in the school..."

"What, with your mind?"

She shakes her head. "You were with Mike..."

At that, Max frowns. Was Eleven at Hawkins Middle? When? And for Christ's sake, when had Max been alone with Mike? She could hardly breathe, and the boy would bite her head off until very recently. She'd actually only seen him smile once at her, that day in the gym...

The gym.

She glares at Eleven, clarity downing on her.

"You made me fall from my skateboard" her voice is flat.

She can see tears welling up on the girl's eyes as she nods, whispering "I'm sorry."

"But _why_?" Wheeler hated her for no reason back then, and now his girlfriend also hates her for no reason. What the hell is wrong with those people? Why isn't she good enough for them?

"I was... jea-lo-us" she enunciates the word as if she had just learned it.

Shock overtakes Max, then. That's it? Her biggest sin? Her greatest fault?

In the future, Max will think back on her reaction in this moment and consider it borderline hysterical. Right now, though, she can only laugh. Hard.

Eleven looks at her with an expression of utter bewilderment, the remains of tears still in the corners of her eyes. Max just cannot stop laughing.

Part of it is relief. Relief that there was nothing really wrong with her. Ever since her parent's divorce, this feeling of being unwanted, unwelcomed had plagued her. Hanging out with the boys had lessened it a bit, but the thing was still there, an open wound oozing every time Mike didn't accept her, and even more when _Eleven_ didn't. Having the confirmation that it had nothing to do with her lifted a weight from her chest. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And, even if it was just plain unfair that she got the sharp end of it, it was an easier problem to solve than her being unwanted.

The other part is that it changes completely the picture Max has of Eleven. She is not some untouchable super-hero, perfect and chaste, she is _just a girl_. Jealousy is such a human emotion and, if Lucas had told the story correctly, Eleven knew very little about those. She clearly knew it was wrong, but didn't seem to grasp its true meaning. The absurdity that is the thought of Mike even considering the existence of any girl other than Eleven herself is completely lost to her. It is, at the same time, both endearing and extremely annoying.

When her chuckles subside, and she can see through the tears of mirth, Max gets up, approaching Eleven. The girl recoils a bit, as if expecting a blow. _And Max had been afraid of her_. Max takes both of her reluctant hands in hers.

"I can assure, Eleven, you are in no danger of Mike ever liking me, or any other girl for the matter, the way he likes _you_... It's impossible"

"Impossible?" Her face contorts a bit with doubt.

"It means it can never, ever happen."

She thinks for a bit "Promise?"

 _What a weird thing to promise about_. She ponders a moment if she should be making a promise for someone else, but then she remembers the scene of Mike and El clutching each other on the Byers' sofa, or how he watched over her – over them all, actually – while she slept. She thinks she is safe.

"Yeah... I promise."

Eleven's hands relax on hers and she smiles brighter than before.

"You know, I had to illegally drive Mike and the others to clear the path for you to save the world for Mike to even stop hating me, so... Why you’d think he'd actually like _like_ me, is beyond my understanding..." Max lets go of El's hands, sitting by her side on the arm of the couch. She is taller than her. Interesting.

The girl shrugs "You are very pretty."

And, just like that, with one single phrase, Max feels herself being wrapped around Eleven’s finger. _No one_ , aside from her mother, has ever said she was pretty. No one. And she says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world, like it is not coming from a girl with features that would give Snow White a run for her money. She says it like it is the truth.

Eleven is still gazing her.

“Hum… thanks, I guess. No one… no one has ever said this to me…”

“Not Lucas?”

_What?!_

Max feels her cheeks burning.

“No! No, no he… hum, why would he? I mean, it’s not like… we’re not… he doesn’t-”

She is not looking Eleven straight in the eyes, so she is completely unprepared when the girl’s index finger touches her lips, stopping her rambling.

“Max” her huge brown eyes bore into her “I understand…”

Eleven removes her finger, small smile on her lips. Max finds herself smiling too.

“Am I… forgiven?” she asks, after a few moments of silence.

 _Friends forgive_. Will’s voice resonates in Max’s head.

“Yeah… yeah, sure” she bumps her shoulder on Eleven’s, feeling light “Just don’t go around dropping girls out of their skateboards every time you are jealous, and we’ll be cool.”

“I won’t!” she promises, serious.

Max laughs. Not such a bad day, in the end.

“So… what do you do around here for fun?”

 

*

 

Hopper realizes two things when he approaches the cabin: one, he can see movement inside, which means the two teenagers are probably alive and kicking – _a good thing_ – and two, he can hear them laughing. No, he can hear them giggling uncontrollably. He throws the cigarette hanging from his mouth away, relaxing so much he could swear he’d just lost two pounds.

The door opens when his fist first connects to it, making it obvious it had been open all the time. He sighs, trying not to be too mad at their carelessness. He locks it behind him, noticing the giggles are coming from El’s room. He motions to it, opening the door. The spectacle in front of him, though, has him stopping on his tracks.

Eleven and Max are levitating above the bed. _Levitating_! Swirling and turning and laughing so hard Hopper can see them both turning purple. His grandpa’s old pack of cards flies in circles around them, as they try – not very hard – to catch them with their hands.

Alive and kicking _indeed_.

“The hell is going on here?!” he roars.

Both girls stare at him, still laughing. El looks slightly guilty. She brings them down, slowly landing on the bed. The cards fall far more quickly.

“That was _so_ _awesome_!” Max yells.

El comes to stand in front of him, a very tiny trickle of blood showing on her nose. _She is getting stronger_ , he thinks.

“What is this, huh?” Hopper keeps his voice stern.

“Fun” she answers, simply, with a toothy grin.

“You’re supposed to rest, kid. You are still recovering…”

“I’m re-co-ve-red…” she says, cleaning the blood with the hem of Joyce’s sweater. It barely stains it. “Can she stay for dinner?” El asks, fervently.

Hopper looks at Max. The girl has started jumping on the bed frantically, red hair bouncing up and down, her giggles filling the room. El doesn’t wait for his answer, joining her with equal enthusiasm.

It downs on him he had never heard El giggling before.

It is worth the screws he has to tight on the bed the next day.

 

*

 

Mike opens just a tiny crack of the basement door, enough to see Max standing there, skateboard in hand. He sighs.

“Sorry, Max… I can’t go to the arcade today…” and if his parents got him talking to any of his friends before his punishment was over, he would be grounded until he was eighteen.

“Relax, Wheeler” she says, taking a piece of paper from her backpack and handing it to him “I just came to give you this.”

“What is this?” it’s a drawing, trees and roads and a red X in the middle.

Max is already moving, heading for Jonathan’s car a bit further up the road, but she turns to answer him.

“A treasure map.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the videoclip of “The Sky is a Neighborhood” by the Foo Fighters (if you haven’t seen it, do it now!) and those two little girls just made me think of El and Max having a blast.
> 
> Next chapter: Mike goes treasure hunting.


	6. Petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to stop apologizing for the length of these chapters. They keep getting bigger! Again, thank you so much for your support. Your comments and kudos always make my day!!!

"I'm telling you, it's a goddam nightmare!"

Hopper has been grumbling about the cabin since he came in thirty minutes ago, his mood reflecting the poor weather outside. It is colder than the previous days, but not enough to snow yet, resulting in the almost freezing rain that now rampages the windows. Eleven doesn't mind the complains as much as she does the weather. He had never before spoken so openly about what happens at his work with her. Funny stories here and there, but _never_ something related to Hawkins Lab. Eleven suspects he was trying to protect her, save her the discomfort of even hearing about the place. It’s a statement to his change of character that he is now talking so openly. She is a bit overwhelmed with all the new words and information, yet trying really hard to keep up with it.

What has gotten Hopper so troubled is the fact that the news something wrong was happening in Hawkins Lab has reached a big newspaper in Chicago. What is written on the paper isn’t necessarily true, but he said it had been enough to stir a commotion among the men already in there. Hopper says these men are not really bad, just "completely clueless!". It had also been enough to bring journalists and reporters and just curious people to the perimeter of the Lab, making it difficult for them to keep what happened last week still a secret. Hopper had been there the whole day, and would be heading back again shortly. 

She looks at the newspaper sprayed on the coffee table, the beautiful picture of Barb big enough to cover half of the front page. Barb, the gone girl, the one she couldn't reach before it was too late. She averts her eyes to the floor, not able to look at it for too long without feeling her chest grow heavy.

_Guilt [gilt]: a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, whether real or imagined._

It had been one of her words of the day. The feeling, though, real or not, cuts a lot deeper than the definition could ever predict.

"Hey" Hopper takes her chin in his hand gently, stopping his rambling and forcing her to face him "Don't go in there, okay.  I told you a million times: it  _wasn't_ your fault."

She sighs, doesn't answer but nods. She knows, if she thinks about it with her head, that he is right. If she thinks with her heart, though, it screams a completely different answer, but she refrains from mentioning it. Eleven has learned that there are some things better kept inside her chest, even the bad ones.

"You finished with your dinner?" He asks. Hopper had come here theoretically to eat dinner with her, but had just watched as she munched down on her chicken and mashed potatoes, smoking cigarette after cigarette. He didn’t have to come, of course. Before, he hadn’t. It is yet another statement to his new behavior, and it gives a strange prickling behind her eyes if she thinks too much about it. She focusses instead on her dessert; Max had taught her to put honey on her Eggos, and she liked it even better than butter or syrup.

She likes Max.

"I'll probably be arriving pretty late" Hopper begins, getting up and taking her now empty plate to the sink "You sure you will be okay on your own?"

It would be the first night she spent alone in the cabin after the Shadow Monster and the Gate. Eleven isn't completely sure about it, but Hopper needs to go. He explained how important it was to keep a close eye on everybody in and around the Lab to make sure they would not find out about her. Dr Owens (the good doctor) was still in the hospital and could only help through the phone.

She moves to the couch, taking her SuperCom and holding it close to her chest. "They will keep me company" she says. " _They_ " meaning Mike. Dustin and Lucas are loud and always just so excited to talk to her. Will is quiet yet, only saying "hellos", "goodbyes" and the occasional laugh. But Mike is always there after they’ve all hang up. Yesterday, he had spoken to her until her eyelids felt heavy, his voice lowering to whispers until he wished her goodnight. Mike would keep her company.

Hopper smiles, fond, as he puts his thick jacket on and gets his umbrella. It is pouring rain outside, loud thunders and angry lightning illuminating the sky. She thinks about thanking him again for the radio, but has her thoughts interrupted.

BANG!

A sound as loud as a gunshot has both of them jumping out of their skin. Hopper’s hand stops by the door handle midmotion. She had never heard that sound, but knows exactly what it is. It's the tripwire. It had never before been discharged. Her scream gets caught up in her throat, too shaken up to let it out. Hopper’s eyes are bulging, but he has his gun in his unwavering hand in a millisecond, umbrella forgotten as he reaches for the flashlight. Eleven gets up, recovering, already knowing what to do. They have a plan for when something like this eventually happened: Hopper would distract (or shoot) whoever was out there while Eleven stayed in the back, ready to knock them unconscious and run as fast as she could into the woods.

He puts his finger on his lips, motioning for her to be silent, as he approaches the door. Eleven stands behind him, the rumble of her heartbeat deafening her ears. She doesn’t tremble, she is not afraid, not yet. Still, she knows that could change in a few seconds. _What if she had to run, really run? Would she be alone again? For how long? What if Hopper got hurt?_

The door opens slowly, a violent gush of freezing air entering the cabin. Eleven shivers, but stands her ground right behind Hopper. She steals a glance out the door, but cannot see much in the darkness nor through the rain. He moves, stealthy couple of steps out to the porch, and he signals with his hand for Eleven to stay behind. They hear the grunt at the same time Hopper reaches the stairs, pointing the flashlight and the gun in the direction of the sound.

“What the-” Hopper says a word she had never heard him say, before he brusquely goes down the stairs, stomping his feet heavily. The flashlight is off again, so she cannot see who it is.

Until she hears him.

“Hey! _Hey_! Let go of me!”

Mike. It’s Mike. She would recognize his voice anywhere in the world.

Hopper is coming back now, gun in one hand and the other holding Mike up by what she assumes is his backpack. Eleven quickly steps out onto the porch, the rain and wind wetting her hair and the cold pebbling her skin with goosebumps. She feels her chest tighten with something scary and good as Mike looks at her and attempts to smile, but Hopper is half carrying him by now, his face outraged, and he shoves the boy forward before he can say anything.

“ _Get in_. Both of you.”

She immediately complies, standing next to Mike as he angrily drops his soaked backpack onto the floor. He doesn’t look at her, though, he is glaring sharply at Hopper.

“What the actual _hell_ , Wheeler!” the man shouts, his voice loud enough to shake the cabin, as he gets in. He turns to her, face red and water dripping from his hat and coat “Did you know about this?!”

Before she can answer, Mike intervenes, standing in front of her “No, she didn’t! I came here on my own.”

“Why, Mike, _why_?! Are you out of your goddam mind? You scared us both to death. _I almost shot you_!” the yelling still continues as he takes both of Mike’s shoulders and shakes him.

“Because you are leaving!” the boy says through gritted teeth. “I saw the Chicago Sun-Times. You are heading for the Lab, aren’t you? _Aren’t you_?”

“What does it got to do with this?” confusion clouds Hopper’s expression.

“Everything! You think I was going to let her be here _alone_? What if they come for her?”

Eleven inhales deeply, her eyes bulging. She feels her heart beating faster than ever, a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold running down her spine.

“Jesus, kid, this is not… I’m trying to…” he trails off, but then continues, mad “you can’t just show up here! There’s a reason why we are hiding so far away. You could’ve been followed!”

“I wasn’t followed” his voice is certain, but lower.

“How can you be so sure?!”

“ _Because_ I’ve been biking around for over an hour and half, okay! I wasn’t followed.”

At that, Eleven looks at Mike. Really looks at him, taking everything in. He is completely and totally drenched. Water is pooling by his feet, down his pants and his heavy coat. His raven hair is plastered on his forehead, heavy and dripping. She notices the way he grits his teeth to stop his chin from quivering. The freckles on his cheeks seem many shades darker because his skin has turned into a grim blue hue. That, and he is shaking. Hard.

Hopper apparently notices the same things. Eleven sees him looking at the boy from top to bottom, alarm replacing the fury in his stance. She reaches her hand and takes Mike’s in hers. It’s like touching ice cubes and they both flinch a little at the touch.

“Mike” she says, and squeezes his fingers. He stares at her, then, his stiff fingers returning the pressure, the tiniest of smiles showing on his quivering and almost purple lips.

“For Christ’s sake, kid…” Hopper mutters, turning him and moving him away, in the direction of the bathroom area.

“Hey!” he protests, letting go of her hand.

Hopper pays no mind, turning the shower above the bathtub on and testing the water temperature with the hand not holding Mike in place. When Eleven can see the steam coming out of it, he motions to the boy.

“ _In._ Before I have to drive you to the hospital with a severe case of hypothermia.”

This time, Mike doesn’t protest, removing his coat with trembling hands and sending a side glance to where Eleven is standing. Hopper notices.

“El” he starts, closing the curtains of the bathtub “Gather some blankets, will you? And put more wood in the fire.”

She does as she is told, astonishment rendering her suddenly obedient. She makes an effort to keep her back to the bathtub all the time, trying to give Mike a sense of privacy, but she cannot avoid hearing them, as Mike and Hopper keep on arguing.

“Stupid… stupid _and_ impulsive. You were supposed to be smart, Wheeler…”

“What would you have me do, huh? I told you, I want to protect her” Mike’s voice is muffled by the sound of the running water. Eleven sits on the couch, several blankets folded by her side. The shiver down her spine comes again, along with the tightness in her heart. She feels warm, though, like the time she had a cold and a fever raged her body for two days.

“Not killing yourself, for starters!” Hopper comes into view with Mike’s clothes in hand, placing them to dry by the wood stove. “What good _can_ you do if you’re half dead?!”

“I’ll be fine…”

“Be fine my ass” he retorts lowly, annoyance in his voice as he rummages through his clothing trunk, coming up with a couple of pieces. The water stops running and Eleven looks intently to her hands on her lap.

Hopper moves to the kitchen, placing a kettle with water on the stove as she hears the sounds of Mike putting on clothes. Her mind is racing now just as fast as her heartbeat, and she closes her eyes. _Mike came to her. He didn’t want her to be alone. Through the storm and the cold and the darkness. He found her_. _He found her_. _He found her_.

When she opens her eyes again, Mike is standing in front of her, one of Hopper’s flannel shirts too loose on his neck, large pants swallowing him whole. His hair is still damp, curling on the tips. She gets up immediately, finding it hard to breathe as they stare at each other.

“El…” his voice is too low, nothing more than a whisper. He is still pale, still shivering, she can see.

“Under the blanket, Wheeler” Hopper says, in a groan, a mug of something steaming in his hands. “ _Now._ ”

Mike sighs, rolls his eyes, but obliges, sitting on the sofa and throwing two blankets around himself. She notices, he keeps the one that was on her bed closer to himself. Hopper hands him the mug, and Mike grimaces as he smells it.

“Just drink it, kid…” he says, fingers massaging his forehead “or I swear to God, I’ll shove it down your throat… Do your parents even know you left the house?”

Eleven starts fidgeting, still on her feet, not knowing exactly what to do.

“They think I’m at Dustin’s in a sleepover …” Mike says between gulps of the liquid – Eleven thinks it’s tea – and scowls again when he puts the mug down. Hopper raises an eyebrow “I told them I had work for school… that it was important…”

“Gullible fools…” he mutters under his breath “How did _you_ get here, anyways? Who told you about this place?”

Mike says nothing, darting his eyes down. He almost disappears under the blankets.

“Neither Joyce nor Jonathan would tell you… that leaves Nancy… I thought she would know better…”

“It wasn’t Nancy…” he looks up, a dirty look on his face “What does is matter, anyway? You promised me you wouldn’t keep El and I apart. _You_ _promised_!”

Eleven is taken aback again, surprised at how much of the interactions between Mike and Hopper she had missed.

“I did… And I won’t” It’s Hopper’s turn to sigh. “I don’t have time for this… Look, kid, for this to work, we got to trust each other, okay. There’s no other way to do it. Either we start communicating, or the promise loses its value…”

Mike purses his lips, not saying anything.

“I’ll bring you over myself next times, if that’s what it takes, but I don’t want you showing up here unannounced _ever_ again, do you hear me? And no more driving through the goddam hail and rain, nearly killing yourself” he has his finger pointed at the boy “Promise me. Mike, _promise me_.”

The two stare at each other, the seconds stretching. Until Mike nods, muttering an almost imperceptible “I promise”.

Seems to be enough for Hopper, and he sighs relieved, looking at his watch as he moves to the door, pulling Eleven with him. He places both hands on her shoulders, making her look at him.

“I have to go. I should’ve been there long ago. Listen, keep an eye on him. The shivers should stop now that he is getting warm, but if they don’t, if he starts with a fever or something, you signal me, okay” he points at the radio “Don’t talk, use the Morse Code, and I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

She nods. “Is he going to be alright?” she asks, scared and unsure.

He ruffles her hair just the tiniest bit. “I think so, kid… Just keep the fire alive and him under the blankets.”

Hopper spares one last glance at Mike’s direction. “We’ll talk more when I come back, Wheeler. And you _better_ behave, or so help me God…” She doesn’t see it, but is certain Mike is rolling his eyes again. Hopper nods to Eleven, she responds with her of own nod. And with that, he leaves.

She locks the door behind him, breathing deeply before heading back to the couch. Mike looks expectantly at her, but she doesn’t know exactly what to do. He still looks so fragile, bundled up in the blankets and trembling. Without the urgency of a crisis, she feels less brave to give into her desire and throw her arms around him, bringing him close to her.

Mike solves it for her, though. “Come here…” he sighs, opening the blankets, as clear as an invitation can be “Please?”

 Eleven doesn’t hesitate this time, sitting next to him and burying her face where his neck and shoulder meet, her arms encircling his middle. He is still shuddering as he envelops her with blankets, an embrace that seems to want to merge the two together. She inhales deeply, smelling the rain on his skin. 

“You must think… I’m really stupid for… for coming here … in a weather like this… don’t you?” he asks, breathy, and she feels him smiling in her hair even if his voice falters through the shivers.

Eleven shakes her head vigorously “No! Mike, no!” and holds him a bit tighter. “But now you are hurt and cold…”

“I guess it is stupid… I wasn’t going to come today… but then I saw the news… and I knew… knew Hopper would have to leave you… and I couldn’t…” he trails off, tightening his arms around her again.

“How did you find me?”

At that, he laughs a bit.

“Max… she drew me a map… forgot to mention the tripwire, though…”

She raises her head and stares at him.

Eleven likes Max. _A lot_.

Another shudder runs down Mikes body and Eleven places her head again in the hollow of his neck, feeling the shiver as if it is her own body, they are this close. His skin, under her chin and cheek, is still cold despite the almost uncomfortable warmth from the blankets.

“How can I help you?” she runs her hand up and down his arms, noticing his cold skin under the shirt, his bony shoulders and elbows sharp under her fingers. They have hugged before, but always with thick layers of clothes between them. Now, Hopper’s flannel shirt and her pajamas are little obstacles to the cold emanating from him.

“It’s good like this…” Eleven feels him inhaling deeply in her hair “Just… talk to me… I like… like hearing your voice.”

She doesn’t really know what to say. These previous days, Mike has done most of the talking during their SuperCom conversations. Eleven appreciates it, still finding it hard to talk, some things she feels or thinks difficult to put into words. Mike seems to _own_ all the words, sharing them with her like secrets, explaining with unending patience when she doesn’t understand them. Her life in the cabin is quite uninteresting, and what has happened in the previous week is still a bit raw inside her chest for her to share. But this is Mike, the boy who rescued her from the rain and ventures the storm to find her. She can do this for him.

Taking a deep breath, filled with the smell of rain, and woodsmoke and _Mike_ , she starts.

“I went to visit Momma.”

He stills next to her. She can practically see the thoughts running through his head.

“Oh… hum… that’s nice… where… where is she?”

“Sick…” he disentangles their arms and looks at her, worried “Papa hurt her. She is stuck now… won’t come back…”

Eleven sees the rage taking over his features, feels his hands balling into fists on her sides, the shivers running through him again. She continues talking “But I can talk to her… in here” she points to her own head.

Mike continues staring at her, his face softening as the moments pass.

“We’ll go visit her… when you can come out, whenever you want, I’ll go with you.”

She feels a string pulling in her heart and buries her face in his chest, trying to hide the sudden tears. “Yes, please.”

He embraces her again, settling more comfortably on the couch.

“I went to Chicago…” she continues.

“Wow! Cool!” he sounds excited. “Wait, did you go alone?”

She nods in his chest.

“To see my sister… she was from the lab, like me, wanted me to stay with her…”

“But you didn’t?” she doesn’t know if it is a question or an affirmation, but she answers anyways.

“She hurts people… bad people, but, I… didn’t… I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay” he interrupts her, sensing her discomfort “I understand… It’s okay” his cold fingers cradle her head, bringing her closer to him. “You know, I’ve never been there… We’ll go to Chicago one day… and you will show me around, what do you think?”

Eleven smiles, searching for his hand and intertwining their fingers together. His are a tiny bit warmer, now. “Promise” she says.

She cannot think of anything else to say to him, and then...

“My name” she starts, getting his attention “I found out my name”. They gaze at each other again, Mike looking flabbergasted.

“Your… name?”

“Jane”

He stares at her for a very long time, an odd expression in his face. Like he has lost his footing and is too surprised to realize he is falling.

“Jane” he tries the name, his eyes averting hers. For some reason she cannot explain, it sounds foreign in his voice “It’s a beautiful name. Jane… hum… okay. I’ll… I’ll call you Jane from now on…”

Eleven looks at him a bit longer, chewing on her lip, trying to decipher the look on his face, decipher why she feels a strangeness regarding her name in his timbre that had not been there before.

“No” she finally says. Eleven is the name Papa gave her, nothing more than a number to him. Jane is the name her Momma gave her, but was never able to use it. Mike did something else entirely. “You’ll call me El. _You_ gave it to me. El is yours.”

He inhales deeply, then, a bit of color tinging his pale cheeks, charcoal eyes warmer than the fire in the woodstove.

“Okay…” Mike bents his head until his forehead is touching hers, closing his eyes and smiling “El is mine…” his fingers, still around hers, squeeze gently “Mike is yours, too.”

Eleven doesn’t know many things, doesn’t understand them. But this, this soft promise, this sweet declaration, she understands perfectly.

They remain in silence after that, at a loss for words after such statement. It is not awkward, though. Eleven’s head is back on Mike’s chest, his heartbeat almost lulling her to sleep. His arms encircle her, not tight, but secure, one of his hands drawing indecipherable patterns on her knuckles. She feels safe and content, relaxed enough to close her eyes and doze for a moment.

She is awoken by Mike’s head jerking back up, after he had himself almost dozed off. It’s still raining outside. Eleven raises her head from his chest, looking at him curiously.

“Why don’t you sleep?”

“It’s okay… I’m not that tired” he doesn’t look at her. He can never face her when he lies.

“Friends don’t lie, Mike.”

He sighs. “I want to be awake, you know… if something happens.”

“To… protect me?” she asks tentatively.

Mike shifts uncomfortably in her embrace. “It’s stupid, I know… You can defend yourself better than I ever could” he blushes again, and she feels a bit happy that he is warm enough to do so “It’s just… to think that they could come and take you away it’s… it’s just too much.”

Eleven feels that feverish warmth again, completely humbled by this boy and his willingness to always give her so much. She wants to give him something back.

She gets up. “El?” she ignores his question, marching to her bedroom and collecting her pillows. She places them on one end of the sofa, and turns to Mike.

“Lay down” she motions for him to do so.

“El, really, I don’t mind being awak-”

“ _Mike_ ”

He rolls his eyes, but complies. “There, I’m laying down” his head hits the pillows, his back touching the back of the couch. “What’s the point o-”

She interrupts him again by sitting on the small space left on the sofa, his gangly limbs occupying most of it. Eleven then lays next to him and he startles. “I’ll protect you tonight” she positions herself in a way that has his head fitting under her jaw, one arm under and around his neck, the other on his shoulder.

Mike’s body is stiff at first “You’ll fall like this” she feels him say, his breath tickling her collarbone. She takes his arm and puts it around her waist.

“There… Now, we take care of each other.” Maybe her heartbeat will be enough to calm him and reassure him the way his does to her.

Eleven feels him take a deep breath, a shudder following right after.

“Are you still cold?” she asks.

“No” Mike says, voice hoarse.

She moves her hand to his ear, her thumb outlining his outer ear very lightly. “Now, sleep” it should be a command, but her voice is so low, it sounds like a plea.

Mike’s arm brings her close to him, his body relaxing bit by bit. When his breath is even, not so long afterwards, Eleven closes her eyes, slumber taking over her. If danger comes, she will handle it.

 

*

 

Hopper knocks on the door two times, one and then three times. It’s past two in the morning, and he is not really optimistic that neither El nor Mike are awake. He is considering his alternatives when, to his surprise, the bolts unlock and the door opens.

It stopped raining, finally, but the cold has settled more harshly now. He is more than pleased to enter the warm cabin. He is not so pleased with the scene he walks in.

El and Mike, tangled together on the sofa, his face partially hidden in her neck, mouth open and slack while he sleeps peacefully. El’s eyes are closed too, but he knows full well she is not asleep. She wouldn’t be able to open the door if she was.

He sighs, knowing that this is a fight he lost long before he even entered the game. Whatever this thing these kids have is, goes beyond his understanding. It’s just something else on the list of things he needs to protect.

It won’t always be this innocent, he knows. He _remembers_ being fourteen - or thirteen. He makes a mental note to be more precise to them on what he means by behaving in the future. For now, Hopper takes one of the blankets that has fallen on the ground and throws on top of them.

He pretends he doesn’t see the smile on El’s face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The Snow Ball


	7. Something Borrowed, Something Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken so long for updating. I've had one hell of a week. Here are three different POV of the Snow Ball and a ton of end notes to compensate

_Denfield. The oak tree. Swing a right. That's it._

Nancy keeps repeating the directions to Hopper's cabin in her head as she drives Jonathan's old Ford, forgoing the need of a paper to right them down. _Better not leave any evidence behind_. The radio is off – she never really appreciated music as much as Jonathan does – and the window is open, letting the frigid wind dissipate the smoke rising from the cigarette hanging between her fingers. She is not proud of her new habit, and her mother would most certainly kill her for it. Lately, though, she had been spending more time with Mrs Byers ( _Joyce_ ) than with her own parents. And Joyce never cares if she smokes or not – she even joins her some of the times. It is unlikely Karen and Ted Wheeler will find out about it anytime soon.

Nancy recognizes the path she is taking even though the last time she did, it was pitch black and she had been too worried about keeping a firm grip on the rifle in her hands to look at the scenery. A large oak tree comes into view, and Nancy turns the car to the right. She had been driving for twenty minutes now, and she checks her watch again to make sure she has enough time to show up in Hawkins Middle before the Snow Ball begins.

She thinks again on how she got here, not sure if she should smile, cry or just keep moving, going with the flow. Hopper had called Joyce a couple of hours ago, almost begging for her help with getting Eleven ready for the Ball. Despite Joyce buying her the dress, makeup and hair supplies had not been arranged so far and the man had not thought about it until today. Nancy had been with Jonathan on the couch in the Byers', both just enjoying each other's company, but had seen the look on Joyce's face when she realized she would have to leave the house – and Will – to help them on the far away cabin. Nancy had promptly volunteered to take her place.

She is not close to Eleven, far from it. She knows the super-hero, knows about her powers, what she is capable of doing. Yet, she knows very little about the girl behind it, the one whose eyes shone when she'd spotted Mike after a year, that she helped clean up and dress when she could hardly stand, the one who had hung for dear life to her brother's neck and sobbed – Nancy still has difficulty remembering that scene without a lump forming in her throat. It makes her want to know more about that girl, to try and be closer.

The street comes to a dead end and Nancy stops the car, parking it behind Hopper's Blazer. She throws her cigarette away, noticing so many other butts by the curb. It makes her smile. _Hopper_. Joyce had let her take some old boots with her, knowing she would ruin her Mary Janes during the walk through the snow-covered woods, and she puts them on before grabbing the supplies' bag and starting to walk. Until very recently, it was still a question whether or not Eleven would be able to join the rest of the middle schoolers to the Ball, and Nancy had found herself cheering along the others for her to make it. For a while, it had also been a doubt whether Mike would make it, too. The flu had gotten him strongly and unexpectedly after a sleepover at Dustin's, leaving him bedridden for more than a week. Now, though, Mike is back to full health and everything seems to be going in the right direction.

The reason why this is all so bittersweet to Nancy is because she feels... different. And not in an easy way to describe. One year ago, she didn't care much about anything that wasn't getting some kind of justice for Barb's death – and, by extension, achieving some closure of her own, appeasing the excruciating feeling of guilt inside her – and spending time with the boy she thought she loved. Now, she still feels guilty over Barb, probably always will, and she doesn't love who she thought she did, but she cares _so much_ more. About everything: her brother, the girl he clearly loves – _and at thirteen!_ – his friends, now _her_ friends, their extended family, including her ex-boyfriend. She knows a few things about herself: she is brave, determined, and likes to think she has a sense of justice along with a resolve to do what is right. The motivation behind all of those things, though, had so far been purely narcissistic: they made her feel good about herself. Nancy Wheeler: selfishly brave. Her newfound ability to care, a result from the recent events, has made her realize how selfish she had been all this time. Self-knowledge is, indeed, a bitch.

The cabin comes into view, and she remembers to skip the tripwire just before she actually trips on it. She can see Hopper looking out the – now covered in glass – window and wonders how long he has been there, if he had been waiting just for her.

The door flies open before she is up the porch stairs.

"Hi, Nancy."

It's Eleven, her stance shy, trying to hide the excitement beaming in her eyes at seeing her. Nancy feels a bit overwhelmed by it. She is wearing her overalls on top of a grey shirt, hair still a bit damp, but Nancy notices the black ballerina shoes on the girl's feet and it makes her grin.

"Hey, Eleven" she says, going through the door and removing her coat. Hopper is still standing by the window and smiles at her "I heard you needed some help with getting ready for the Snow Ball..."

The girl nods, still shy, but looks expectantly at the bag in Nancy's hand.

"I called for Joyce and you show up, kid?" Hopper asks, his tone slightly bemused.

Nancy shrugs. "She wanted to be with Will and I was free, so..."

He smiles again, lightening a cigarette.

Eleven's cold hand touches hers, tentatively. "Do you want to see my dress?"

"Sure! I brought my makeup set and some hair products, if you want to use them..."

Eleven cracks another smile, leading her to what she assumes is her bedroom. It's a little bare, nothing adorning the wooden walls and only one teddy bear on the bed. Right beside it, carefully outstretched, sits the dress, grayish-blue with pink dots all over it, a flowing skirt that will probably reach past her knees.

"Pretty" she compliments "Very pretty."

The girl sits on the edge of the bed, her hand arranging one of the sleeves of the dress with immense care, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle. Nancy wonders if this is the first piece of clothing that is hers and hers alone, not hand-me-downs, something that had belonged to Nancy, Mike or Hopper.

Before she is overtaken by that bittersweet emotion again, she continues.

“Hey, how about we start, huh?” she takes her floral makeup box from her bag and sees Eleven’s eyes shining at the sight of it. “Have you ever done makeup before?”

She shakes her head. “Mike did it… and Kali… But, never alone.”

Nancy doesn’t know who Kali is, and she wonders under what circumstance Mike did Eleven’s makeup, but refrains from asking. Maybe some other time.

“How about we do it like this: I haven’t done my makeup yet” she had spent an awful amount of time curling her hair this morning, but was planning on doing her makeup while in Jonathan’s place “I can show you how to use everything and you can do your own. That way, you’ll learn…”

Elevens nods, excitedly and they move in front of the mirror by her dresser to begin. Nancy shows her how to apply the blush as the girl looks mesmerized at the brush, a fond expression in her eyes. She lets her choose what color of eyeshadow she wants, not surprised when, after some reluctance, she chooses pink.

“Maybe I’ll go with pink myself” she dabs a bit of purple on the edges of her own eyes, and shows Eleven how to apply the shadow to her lower eyelid without smudging it too much.

It is perhaps a shade darker and a tad bolder than the rest of the thirteen-year-old girls around Hawkins are wearing these days, but Nancy thinks it suits her. She advises on a light pink lip-gloss that the two of them apply and, when it’s all done, they stare at the mirror.

“It looks great, Eleven. You did a great job” Nancy could just say she looks pretty, which would be the truth, but it seems more important to reassure her she’d learned. When the girl smiles proudly at both of their reflections, Nancy knows she said the right thing. Eleven doesn’t talk much: with her, it was all in the eyes.

She goes back to her bag, spilling its contents on the bed while being careful of the dress. “I have some hair products, too” she shows her the gel, a couple of hair clips and brushes along. “I can do your hair” she starts, but then thinks again “or you could try and do it yourself?” she looks at her watch again. There is still time. “I can wait in the other room… and you can call me if you want me to help you.”

Eleven looks at her, a bit surprised. Nancy understands, then, that she is rarely given a choice on things, no matter how simple they are. Everything has been previously arranged for her by someone else until now. That fact that she speaks so little might have lead people to ignore her voice, albeit unintendingly. She makes a mental note of, in the future, give her more opportunities to work on her independency. She has a feeling Eleven will be an even bigger force to be reckon with once she discovers her inner strength, one that has nothing to do with her powers.

Nancy realizes they have been staring at each other for longer than the usual, and asks again.

“So… what would you like to do?”

“I’ll… try. On my own” her tone is low, but firm. She quickly adds “You will be outside?”

“Right there” she points out of her room, smirking before making her way out.

Hopper is standing by the mirror on the bathroom area. He turns when he notices her “All done?”

She cannot answer, though. She just noticed what he had been doing.

“Are you… is that… are you putting on _a tie_?”

Perhaps her incredulous pitch is borderline disrespectful to address the Chief of Police, but Nancy cannot help it. She has known Hopper for five years now, since he came back to Hawkins, and has never seen him wear a tie. Not even for the for the official commitments he had to attend.

It is also the first time she sees the man looking almost… embarrassed.

“What?” he asks, vexed “Too much?”

He is wearing a light grey, striped dress shirt – also something new – and looks to be struggling with the knot on the tie around his neck.

“You sure you’re just escorting her? No plans to be her actual date?” she teases, pushing her luck.

Hopper huffs, removing the tie completely and throwing it over the couch. “As if your brother would allow it…. The little punk would probably challenge me to a dwell for just suggesting it…” the last part is said under his breath.

“Well… he did promise her” that is what Mike kept repeating during his fever nights a few weeks ago: that he had _promised_ to take her to the Snow Ball, that he could not be sick by then. Their mother had found it amusing that he was so distressed over a girl to take to the Ball, but had been too worried with her son’s health to inquire further. Nancy, however, knew exactly what he was talking about it. “And Mike takes his promises-”

“Very seriously, yeah. I know that…” she thinks she hears him say “little punk” again, but is lacking any malice in it.

The man heads for the chair by the kitchen and Nancy follows him. He reaches for the pack of cigarettes, takes one for himself and offers it to her without hesitation.

“Oh! No, thanks… I don’t…” she is too startle to form a complete sentence.

“I can smell it on you, kid” he says, matter-of-factly.

Oh.

Well, then…

She takes the offered cigarette, accepts when he lights it for her before lighting his own.

She coughs for thirty seconds straight after the first drag. Hopper almost gets up to aid her.

“Forgot to mention they were unfiltered” he leans back on his chair while she removes tobacco from her tongue and lips. “You can loot some from Joyce… she prefers the lighter stuff.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that” she says when she can talk again.

They settle for a companionable silence, listening to the sounds of Eleven messing around in her room. Hopper seems to have a permanent  soft smile on his face while he glances at the half-closed door. It would have continued like that, if Nancy’s eyes had not landed on the piece of paper sticking out of its envelope in one corner of the table. It is a birth certificate.

“Who is Jane Hopper?” she knows Hopper’s daughter’s name was Sara, and she has never heard of any other family member of his still in Hawkins.

The smile vanishes from his face as he turns and stares back at her. He does that for quite a while, as if assessing whether or not to answer her. He takes another long drag from his cigarette, straightens his back and starts talking.

“It’s El’s real name… the one her mother gave to her before the assholes in Hawkins Lab fried her brain and left her catatonic.”

Nancy just stares at him, frozen.

She purses her lips, feeling such an immense happiness about having had a small part in exposing those men from Hawkins Lab she almost drowns in it.

“Owens managed to get her a birth certificate.” He continues, playing with the cigarette in his hand “She might have a chance like this, you know… to lead a normal life…”

“Her last name is Hopper… so… that means you’re officially taking her in?”

He relaxes just the tiniest bit.

“I kind of already did that… I do plan on doing things differently this time…” he points to the papers “This looks like a nice way to start.”

Nancy nods. “Does she know?”

“I showed her the papers, yeah…”

That is not the question she asked and Nancy suspects Hopper knows. He avoids her eyes when she continues.

“Does she know what it means she now has your name?” The word _daughter_ hangs in the air, unsaid.

The man looks at her, not exactly panicking, but with enough distress in his eyes that Nancy almost regrets asking.

Almost.

He is saved by Eleven, who chooses this moment to come out of her room.

“I’m ready.”

She is already in her dress, and hasn’t gelled her hair back completely, the way she had when she made her triumphal entrance in the Byers’ household all those weeks ago; Nancy notices some traces of the girl’s curls at the back of her head, along with a blue hariclip. She and Hopper get up, then.

“Very pretty, Eleven! The hair is spot-on!”

She smiles shyly and looks at Hopper.

“Perfect” he says simply, voice heavy and eyes glistening.

“Well, almost” Nancy says.

The dress is perhaps one size too big, and it’s loose on the girl’s tiny waist and shoulders. Approaching her, Nancy takes the excess fabric by her middle in her fingers and sees how much of it there is.

“Do you have any pins? Or a needle and thread?” she is not really good at sewing, but maybe if can tighten it just a bit...

Hopper looks helpless, of course, and moves to check on a trunk near the bed by the living room area.

Eleven stares at her like the world has just crumbled, big doe eyes with tears forming in them.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’ll be okay. We’ll just…” she looks around, moves to check on her purse, on the bag she brought with her, finding nothing useful. She passes by the mirror and has a glance of herself, her pink belt catching her attention.

“Here” Nancy is by Eleven’s side in a second, removing her own belt and using it to girdle the girl’s waist. The color matches perfectly with the shade of pink on the dress’s details, almost as if it was made for it. Nancy sighs, relieved, when she sees the look on Eleven’s face “What do you think?” she moves them back to the mirror, arranging the dress on the girl’s shoulders.

“What about you?” she asks Nancy, pointing at her waist.

 “I still have time to go back to my house. I’ll get another belt, you can keep this one.”

Eleven calms and looks back at her through the mirror “Thank you.”

Hopper appears by the door, matching relieved expression on his face when he sees the two of them “Oh, thank God…”

The girl similes timidly, tucking a loose hair tendril behind her ear, her wrist watch sliding almost to her elbow.

“Let me tighten that for you” Nancy says, reaching for her left arm. She fastens the clasp as tight as it goes, but it’s still far too loose on Eleven’s wrist.

Hopper then comes to stand next to her, gently taking her hand from Nancy’s, an undecipherable expression on his face. He sits by the bed, bringing the girl to be eye-level with him.

“Here” he takes a blue ribbon from his own wrist and puts it on Eleven’s. It curls around the watch, and when she lifts her wrist, it does not slide so far up her arm anymore.

“What is it?” Eleven asks.

“It’s a headband” the man starts, voice so small Nancy has to strain her ears to listen. “When your hair is long enough, you can use it to make a ponytail or a braid…”

She looks intently at it, touches it with her other hand before closing her eyes and opening them a couple of seconds later, looking solemn “It wasn’t yours…”

“No” Hopper doesn’t hesitate in his answer “Belongs to my daughter.”

Nancy cannot stop a gasp.

“Sara?” now Eleven is also whispering.

Hopper smiles sadly, the glistening back in his eyes. He takes both of the girl’s hands in his.

“It belongs to my daughter” he repeats “Figured she should finally have it…”

Eleven’s eyes fill with tears, and she smiles so brightly it is as if the rom has been lit.

Hopper pulls her into a hug, sighting into her hair “You look _perfect_ , kid.”

When Nancy reaches her house fifty minutes later, she notices, stopping by the mirror in her room to fasten the wide, black belt she decides to wear, that she will have to redo her makeup. There are tear stains on her cheeks.

It’s okay, she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t mind it at all.

 

*

 

“Big smile in three, two, ONE!”

Mike blinks as the flash on Jonathan’s camera goes off, almost blinding him. _And he hadn’t even been looking at the camera_! El flinches a little next to him, startled, like she had the two previous attempts at having their picture taken. He does as he did before: pulls her just a millimeter closer to him, thumb lightly caressing her knuckles. The first try, he is pretty sure they look like they are having their mugshots taken: Mike hates taking pictures and El was not ready, staring warily at the camera. The second, both of them blinked. Now, they were looking at each other instead of ahead.

He notices Jonathan sighting by the camera stand.

“Thank you, Jonathan! Really, thanks a lot!” he says, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and motions for El to move, leading them away from there. It is not Jonathan’s fault they suck at this.

Nancy had been the one to insist they have their picture taken. “You’ll regret if you don’t have any memory of it. She looks so pretty!” were her words.

El does, she looks like the prettiest thing he has ever seen. So much so he could barely look at the camera a few moments ago: his eyes have been glued to her since the moment she came through the front door of the gym. And not because of her dress, or they way her hair curls on her forehead. _She is here_. There is nothing prettier than that.

Cyndi Lauper’s voice fills the place with “ _Girls Just Want to Have Fun_ ” and, after dancing with El through three slower songs just a few moments ago, he doesn’t feel like coming back to dance floor just yet.

“Would you like to sit for a bit?” Mike asks her, her hand still in his. He cannot see his friends in their surroundings, and hopes they are having as much fun as he is. “Maybe get something to drink?”

“Yes, please.”

Since his clandestine trip to the cabin, Mike and El had not had the chance to be together again. He had fallen ill right after, something he still feels extremely embarrassed about – Hopper had literally taken El’s SuperCom one day and yelled at him for being stupid – and he hadn’t been able to visit her so far. This was their first encounter after more than a month. It had felt like more.

They go for the punch bowl, Nancy pouring them two cups of the dark red liquid and smiling knowingly to the two of them.

There are not so many people on the stands, now, most of them crowding the dance floor. Mike leads them closer to the front door, where the music is just a bit lower and they can talk more easily, if they so choose. He is okay with just sitting there with her.

El takes a sip of her punch, savors it for a moment, and immediately goes for another.

“Good?” he asks, sitting next to her and laughing slightly.

“Sweet” she answers “I liked it.”

The punch has tinted her lips a darker shade of pink and Mike finds himself leaning into her, almost unconsciously. He stops when he notices what he is doing, trying to hide it by reaching for his cup and taking a sip himself.

He desperately wants to kiss El again. And again. Probably for the rest of his life.

He feels her intertwining their fingers again – he hadn’t noticed he had let go of her hand – and resting her head on his shoulder. It is quite a familiar gesture by now.

“Feels different” she starts “To be here, now… with you.”

“A good different?”

She squeezes his hand “The best.”

He feels his lips quirking up in a smile as if on its own accord.

“It’s different for me, too… I… I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else…”

El moves closer to him, and he positions their locked hands on his lap, placing his cup by his side so he can caress the hand he has in his. Phil Collins has started singing “ _Against All Odds_ ”, the couples forming again on the dance floor.

“El…” he starts, but doesn’t look at her. Instead, he stares at their hands, mesmerized by how small her hand is in his, the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the tone of her skin. “This… different thing we feel… it means something…”

Mike feels her lifting her head from his shoulder and looking at him, but his eyes continue fixed on their hands. His fingers now drawing circles on the back of her hand as if following a previously designed pattern.

“Yes…?”

He breathes in, gathering all his courage and secretly praying he doesn’t stutter too much. He has been thinking about this for weeks now, rehearsing again and again how to approach the subject with her, but never managing to find a suitable breach on their conversations to start it.

He nods. “It means… it means you are… very special to me. _Really special_. More than the others, more than a friend…”

El doesn’t say anything, but he can feel her gaze in him.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I mean… to ask you, really… is…if… if you would… would be my girlfriend…?”

The silence stretches. David Bowie’s “ _As the World Falls Down_ ” is now playing and Mike thinks that this is one song he would like to dance with El to, but he has just made a fool of himself and has probably ruined the moment. He musters what is left of his bravery and looks at her. She is frowning, brows creased and confusion in her eyes.

Mike panics. Maybe she doesn’t know what a girlfriend is.

“I thought…” she tilts her head “I thought I already was…”

They gaze at each other for another moment, the amount of time it takes for the information to sink into Mike’s brain. When it does, he lets out a goofy laugh as he feels his cheeks aching from smiling so widely.

“Yours and mine, right?” El adds to her – already earth-shattering – statement.

_El is mine._

_Mike is yours._

What else would he need to hear after such vows had already been said? He feels silly for having felt the need to ask, but is way too overjoyed to actually care.

He places his hand on her cheek and brings her closer to him, leaning in, smiling like a mad man. He feels bold, intrepid, he feels like a real-life paladin, facing dragons to get to his princess, only to find out she has been slaying them by his side all along. He feels…

 Happy.

He hadn’t felt like that in a long time. He thinks he could get used to it again.

His lips touch hers and, instead of pulling back one moment later, Mike decides to linger just a bit longer. _Bold, intrepid_. The whole world sums up to the softness of El’s lips, the taste of strawberry still clinging to them. His thumb caresses her cheek, and he feels her hand sneaking up to touch his own. When he moves his lips, carefully and oh so slowly, she does the same. His lower lip ends up trapped between hers and the sensation is so _overwhelmingly good_ , Mike just wants her to feel the same. So, he does, moving his lips again to catch her fuller one between his. He feels her hand tighten in his, trembling a bit.

When they stop kissing, he notices his hands are trembling too.

El’s eyes remain closed and she leans again, her characteristic tiny smile a bit wider now, touching her forehead to his.

“You did it” she says after a moment, voice breathy and raspy, as if sharing a secret.

“What?” he asks, when she doesn’t continue.

“We are here… you’ve kept your promise.”

His heart has been thundering inside him since she came into the room, but now Mike thinks he is in real danger of having the thing just leap out of his chest.

He takes both of her hands in his, brings them up and kisses her knuckles. Twice each. _Brave, daring_. El laughs.

“I’ll always, _always_ keep my promises to you” he vows.

“Me too” she says, not half a second later “I’ll always come back to you. I promise.”

Mike doesn’t know what the future holds for them. Maybe there will be other monsters, demons – real ones and the ones in their heads. Maybe the threats will come from something less fantastic but just as frightening. There will always be battles to fight, that he knows for sure. And, if someone had asked him a couple of moments ago how he would survive all of those perils, he would have been filled with fear and uncertainty, because he has _no idea_ how to do just that. Now, El’s hands in his, her breath tickling his damp lips, their promises resonating in his ears, he still doesn’t know how he will do it, but he is absolutely certain that he will.

If only just to wait for her.

 

*

 

“See you later, Zombie Boy. Maybe _you_ can ask me to dance the next time a slow song starts…”

The nickname doesn’t bother Will so much this time, possibly because it was said without any ill will. He thinks the girl – Patricia, her name is Patricia Brown – even looks hopefully at him as she says it.

He is happy he had danced – for several songs – with her, really, he is. This has been the most fun he has had in… he doesn’t even remember _how_ long. But he doesn’t think he will ask her again to dance. He feels a bit weird, more excited about the fact that he is here, he is _alive_ , doing things normal thirteen-year-old boys should be doing, and not fighting for his life while trapped in another dimension, than with the fact that he actually danced with a pretty girl.

Interesting.

Will reaches the table he has shared with his friends earlier, but no one is there. He looks around and sees Dustin, Lucas and Max by the punch bowl, laughing as Dustin gesticulates and spills punch on the other two. He decides to sit a bit and wait for them to come over. Mike is nowhere to be seen, but Will knows where he is. He saw him, earlier, leading a girl by the hand in the general direction of the bleachers. He didn’t see her face, but he knows exactly who it is. Mike would not be with anyone else that was not Eleven.

The first chords of Van Halen’s “ _Jump_ ” start and Will finds himself banging his hands on the table to the beat of the music. Jonathan has infected him with a musical addiction and now he cannot get enough of the good stuff.

He is so distracted he does not notice a figure approaching him, not until she is standing right in front of him.

“Hi, Will”

Eleven.

Her back is to the dance floor, the lights coming from it giving her a silver frame, making her look almost ethereal.

“Hey, Eleven…” Will has never been alone with her. Not in this dimension, at least, and he is suddenly nervous “Where is… hum… where is Mike?”

She points to the punch bowl, and he can see Mike has joined the rest of their friends and is trying to escape Dustin, who is now purposely throwing small drops of punch on everyone else.

“Oh, okay…” he says as she comes closer and sits right next to him. “Are you… having fun?”

The girl smiles, nods enthusiastically, but just keeps staring at him. It doesn’t make it easy on him: small talk has never been his forte.

There are things he wants to tell her. Important things, perhaps too big to be put into words. This is the girl that has risked absolutely everything to save him, has been through literal hell to help and save their friends and family. How do you even start a conversation with such a person?

She extends her hand, slowly and without taking her eyes of him, and reaches for his hand. Will lets her grasp it, completely enthralled by the déjà vu feeling he has the moment their fingers touch.

He knows her. _He knows her_.

He smiles, laughs nervously and he hears her do the same. Will looks up, locking his eyes with her for the first time and feels his breath leaving his chest when he notices the depth in them. Warm brown, with specs of hazel in them and unshed tears on their corners.

“Can you forgive me?” she asks in that breathy voice he remembers so well.

“For what?” Will asks, totally taken aback by her question.

“For… everything”

Mike had told him, long ago, that Eleven once thought she was the Monster, that she was the one responsible for all of his demise. He had also told him he had tried to reassure her more than once how it was absolutely not her fault. But Mike didn’t understand, he couldn’t. He had never felt guilt the way Eleven had.

But Will had. Will still did.

He knew the feeling that clumped in his throat, almost chocking him, every time he looked at his mother and saw the purple marks on her neck, every time he saw the old board games still in one corner of his living room. Bob had brought those to him, and Bob was not around anymore.

He shakes his head. His wrongdoings don’t have space tonight. He pushes them down, far away inside him, and looks at the girl that saved his life.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Eleven” he starts, reaching for her other hand “Only to thank…”

_Thank you for saving me._

_Thank you for saving them._

_Thank you for coming back._

Will doesn’t say any of this, but as she squeezes his hands, eyes boring into him and lips curving in the smallest smile he has ever seen, he thinks she understands.

He doesn’t know which one of them does it, but in a second, her arms are around his neck and his hands are on her back. She smells of woodsmoke and jasmine flowers and the strawberry from the punch he had drunk earlier.

“Thank you, then” she says by his neck “…for everything.”

And Will understands, too. Understands that while helping the others search for him, she had found herself. She had fallen for them and they had for her just as hard. In a quest to save him, she had found her home.

He tightens his arms around her for a moment before letting go. They laugh again when they stare at each other, her hand coming to the corner of his right eye to clean a stray tear that has escaped. He does the same to her. It’s okay, though, those are happy tears.

“Is everything alright?”

Mike has approached them, the others not far behind him. There is a crease in his forehead, his brows frowning.

“Yes” Eleven answers for the both of them, turning to look at the taller boy and smiling “ _Yes_!”

“El!” Dustin shouts, passing by Mike and unceremoniously pushing him aside to clutch Eleven into a hug, pulling her up from the chair and twirling her.

She lets out a small squeak.

“You’ve made it!”

“Of course she did, you dumbass” Lucas says, hugging Eleven in a much more civilized manner “Hi, El!”

The girl looks flushed, cheeks pink, but with a wide grin on her face as she waves at Lucas.

“How _do_ you put up with those nerds?” Max throws her arm around Eleven’s shoulder and Will watches her easily putting her arm around the red headed waist.

“Hey!” Mike and Dustin shout. Lucas just rolls his eyes.

The guitar’s tunes for “ _Footloose_ ” start and Will sees Dustin’s eyes bulging.

“Oh my God, I know all the moves for this song! Eleven, c’mon, you have to dance!”

She looks a bit surprised, looks at Mike for a second. He just laughs.

“But I have danced” she points at Mike.

“What, with this klutz? Pff…” Dustin pulls Eleven’s hand, gently this time, and looks at Mike, Lucas and Will with an evil grin “Come and let me show you how the pros do” he pauses and pulls Max hand as well “You too, Maxine.”

“How many times do I have to say… _It’s Max_!”

Will can hear her retort as they move to the dance floor, Eleven throwing one last cheerful glance at them before the three disappear.

“You think” Lucas starts as him and Mike take a seat along with Will “That dancing with your sister has made the remaining screws in his head come loose?”

“Did he still have any?” Mike runs a hand through his hair, amused smile on his face.

It is then that Will notices: Mike’s lips are glistening and pink, almost as if…

“Hum, Mike… you have some…” he points at his own lips and watches as his friends uses the back of his hand to clean his lips. He looks mortified when he sees the unmistakable smudge of lip gloss that now stains his hand.

Lucas and Will exchange a look and try with all their might not to laugh.

They fail.

“Jesus, dude, chill for a bit. You look like someone canceled Christmas” Lucas says, after Mikes courageously withstands their laughter, blushing redder by the second. “It’s not like we don’t know…”

The boy sighs, resigned.

Will looks at the dance floor, spotting Dustin and the girls right away. He has each of them in one arm, spinning them while making complicated dance moves with his feet. Will can almost hear their giggles.

The other boys notice and look at the same direction. Lucas similes fondly, but it’s Mike’s expression that catches his eyes. He is happy, genuinely, almost-floating-out-of-his-seat happy, something he hasn’t seen in his friend’s eyes for a very long time, if ever.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Mike looks perplexed at him, his neck turning so fast it must have hurt. Will had not meant to say it out loud, didn’t even notice he had. Love is such an abstract concept to them, and yet, he is witnessing right here and then.

Mike’s cheeks become crimson again and he looks intently at his hands.

“I… I… think… I haven’t… I…”

The giggles reach them for real this time, and the three of them turn in time to see Eleven doubling over her stomach, laughing really hard at Dustin and Max’s antics.

“Yeah…” Mike says, his voice hoarse but not faltering, eyes shining bright while he looks at Eleven “Yeah, I think I do…”

Lucas exchanges another glance with Will, but this time, they don’t laugh.

“Tired already? How old are you, seventy-three?”

Jonathan has come to their table, camera in hand. His eyes land on the dazed expression on Mike’s face and, before the boy can turn to look at him, he takes a picture.

“We are just having a break” Will says, as a way to distract his brother.

“You are not supposed to have a break… You are supposed to be dancing until your feet hurt.”

“What about you?” Lucas asks “Aren’t you in photo-boot duty?”

“Finished by ten” Jonathan looks at his watch “And that was… ten minutes ago. C’mon, I think you are being summoned” he points to the dance floor where, sure enough, Dustin, Max and Eleven wave excitedly at them as the initial beat of “ _Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go_ ” begins to blare from the speakers.

Lucas promptly gets up, grabbing Mike by the shoulder and stating “Let’s go, man. Will, c’mon!”

He joins them, sparing one last glance at his brother and noticing he is following them, a bit further, taking the group’s pictures without them noticing.

Max takes both of his hands the moment he arrives on the dance floor, swinging them from left to right. Dustin has grabbed Mike in an embrace and is now pretending to dance a waltz with him, while Eleven shows Lucas the dance moves she has just learned.

Will feels the flashes of the camera, hears their friends laughing so unpreoccupied and freely. Mike finally escapes Dustin’s grip and goes for Eleven, taking her hand and twirling her again, and again, and again, until the girl falls in his embrace, dizzy and giggling, the joy pouring out of her.

Will joins Dustin in the chorus:

_“Wake me up before you go go,_

_'Cause I'm not planning on going solo._

_Wake me up before you go go,_

_Take me dancing tonight”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a million things to say!
> 
> First, bit of a small trivia:
> 
> \- that thing with Hopper’s tie is true. David Harbour suggested that Hopper would wear a tie to drive El to the Snow Ball, since he knew how important it was for his girl. It was eventually not included in the show, but I thought to pay a little homage to the gesture, dammit! It was just too cute! You can check him talking about it on those two links below:
> 
> http://fanfest.com/2017/11/14/the-heartwarming-hopper-moment-cut-from-stranger-things-2/
> 
> http://www.thisisinsider.com/stranger-things-eleven-hopper-snow-ball-dress-2017-11
> 
> -the first picture Mike and El take at the Snow Ball (the “mugshot”) is also real. If you google it, you can find pictures of Finn Wolfhard and Millie Bobby Brown dressed for the Snow Ball and looking at the camera like they are two serial killers.
> 
> I have this story completely formed on my mind now. There will be five more chapters, finishing on their first day of High School, and maybe an epilogue with how I see the gang as adults, with their extended family and careers.
> 
> I also have this idea for a story, to be called “First Times”, including a bunch of firsts for Mike and El throughout their lives. Major fluf, but maybe for a more mature audience? What d you think? I’m accepting suggestions.
> 
> I absolutely live for your comments and kudos. They always make me feel extremely happy!
> 
> Music credits:  
> Cyndi Lauper - Girls Just Want to Have Fun  
> Phil Collins - Against All Odds (Take a Look At Me Now)  
> David Bowie - As the World Falls Down (I’m taking a poetic license with this one. It wasn’t out until 1986, but is one of my favorite songs ever! And the lyrics are just perfect for Mike and El)  
> Van Halen – Jump  
> Kenny Loggins – Footloose  
> Wham - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go


	8. After Hours (Time’s up!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place during New Year’s Eve. If you want to know my take on what happened during Christmas, please check my other work: .. ._.. ___ …_ . _.__ ___ .._ (I LOVE YOU). Here is the link:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12642345
> 
> If you don’t want to, what you need to know is that Mike gave El a fairy tale book for Christmas, and that Mike and Hopper exchanged a few glares during the evening.

It is around ten thirty when the doorbell rings.

Joyce is not expecting anyone else to join them on this New Year's Eve, but cannot say she is all that surprised when she opens the door to face a very smiley, sunglass wearing Steve Harrington.

"Hello, Mrs Byers!" he greets, always charming.

Jonathan is coming from his bedroom, putting on his leather coat, while Will and Eleven ( _Jane_ , she should start calling her by her real name) trail behind him.

"Hi, Steve. Come on in..." she says as she further opens the door.

"I appreciate, really, but I'm just here to make a delivery" It is then that Mike comes from behind him, bundled up in a heavy winter coat, greeting her with a smile.

"Exchanging a Wheeler for a Byers now, Harrington?" Jonathan asks, once he reaches the door. Joyce sees Mike rolling his eyes.

"There's another Wheeler in the car, don't worry" the boy says, murmuring a "Hi, Mrs Byers" as he enters the house. Joyce looks over Steve’s shoulder to see Nancy in the backseat of the car, waving at her with a grin on her face.

"Hey!" Steve yells after Mike "A little _thank you_ would be good..."

But Mike is already gone, embracing both Will and Jane, throwing his arms around their shoulders.

"Little shithead..." Steve says under his breath, looking mortified one second later when he notices Joyce has overheard him. She just raises her eyebrow.

Jonathan leans in, kissing her cheek. "Bye, mom" he tells her, going out the door. Steve clasps his hand on Jonathan's shoulder, saying something she cannot hear by his ear. Both young men laugh, signaling their goodbyes to her as they reach the car. She can see Nancy hugging Jonathan from behind, from where she is seating in the backseat, while saying something that makes both of the boys cackle.

Joyce tries not to think too hard on this newfound friendship between Jonathan and Steve. She also tries not to think too much on the role Nancy has in all of this. Hawkins is a small town, and people talk. The fact that she works at Melvald's only increases the amount of gossip she is exposed to. She is well aware that Jonathan had been taken to the Police station last year over a fistfight he got into with Steve. She also knows the reason for said fight had been Nancy, who, according to the gossip mill, was Steve's girlfriend until two months ago.

She sighs, closing the door after the car vanishes on the curve. Jonathan had told her about this New Year's party, had mentioned he was going with his friends. Joyce had been exhilarated, of course, he deserved all that was best. It was so rare for him to act his age, enjoying his youth. She is a bit torn, though, now that she knows exactly who those friends are, between trying to figure out what that dynamic is or simply being happy for her son.

She is leaning towards the latter.

The reverie is further interrupted by her other guest. Hopper comes from the kitchen and leans by the door, cigarette in hand as he signals to the kids now in the living room.

"Sneaking out _again_ , Wheeler? Shouldn't you be in a party somewhere else?"

Joyce notices, now that the boy has extracted his winter coat, that he is dressed quite nicely for a simple visit to her house. His hair is much shorter, obviously recently cut, and the jacket and tie he is wearing remind her of his attire at the Snow Ball.

"I didn’t sneak out, I was excused" he answers simply, helping Jane pushing the sofa to the window while Will sets the Atari on the TV.

Of course, the Wheeler's New Year's Eve party. She had been invited to it once or twice, when Will was little, but never felt like going. Karen was nice, and meant well, but the crowd on those parties always was sure to get under Joyce’s skin. Karen usually spent the month of December with the preparations, calling all her friends for hours every day and going to Melvald's more times than what was really necessary. It is quite an event for her, and it downs on Joyce that both Mike and Nancy must have had to fight their way out of it.

"Why are you always so hard on him?" she asks, heading back into the kitchen, remembering the death glares exchanged between the two of them on Christmas’ Eve.

"That kid has a thing for showing up unannounced..." he puts out his cigarette and starts rolling up the sleeves of his navy blue wool sweater “He’s hotheaded and impulsive… a recipe for disaster…”

She huffs. “Tell me which teenager is not impulsive… I can remember quite some examples of Jimmy Hopper’s impulsiveness back in the day…”

He looks at her in mock shock. “Will doesn’t seem to be giving you grey hairs over his rashness” and he points to his own head, where, yes, she can see a few silver strands on the side.

“What? Afraid Mike will be an influence on Will as much as he is on your daughter?”

Joyce doesn’t see his face, he has turned and dug his hands in the sink to start washing the dishes, but she thinks he startles just a tiny bit at the mention of the word _daughter_. “She doesn’t need Wheeler to be rebellious, trust me…”

“Then what? Don’t tell me you’re afraid he’ll hurt her…”

She turns to the living room and has a full view of the teens. Jane is sitting sideways on the couch, legs stretched out in front of her and a big blue book in her lap. Will and Mike are on the floor, hunched over their controllers as they furiously press the buttons and shout at the TV. When Will screams, celebrating, Mike lets out a frustrated complain, his back hitting the sofa, Jane moves her hand without taking her eyes from the book to press gently on his shoulder, his own hand moving to cover hers even before she had actually touched him.

Almost as if their movements are rehearsed.

“No, it’s not that…” Hopper says, bringing her attention back to him. “It’s more like I’m afraid of what he’ll do _for_ her. Or each other, for the matter…” Joyce moves closer to him, getting a dish cloth and starting to dry the dishes as he finishes washing them. “Last time, he was in bed for a week with pneumonia, aside from almost getting shot…”

Joyce stares at him for a moment, before snorting a laugh.

“You think this is funny?”

“I find amusing the fact that it almost sounds as if you are worried about him, yeah…” she starts, putting the plates back in the cupboard “But also that what bothers you the most about Mike is how much he acts like _you_ did, when you were his age…”

Hopper pauses, hands still in the water, to look back at her. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Joyce could remind him, of course. About the countless times she saw Hopper shoving bullies from higher grades against the wall of the gym for picking on Cameron Townsend – a smaller, gangly kid from their class, who wore huge headgear braces and coke-bottom glasses. Or how many times he got into detention because he wouldn’t rat on which of his friends were skipping class with him to get a cigarette. Or that one time he almost got expelled for punching the warden, Clinton Lindberg, for no apparent reason – he had caught him spying through the window in the girl’s locker room, although no one believed him.

She doesn’t know exactly how Mike acts around the other kids, but she has known the boy for quite some time to put the pieces together and draw the parallels with the young Jim Hopper she knew so well. Hopper was in the football team, used to hang with the popular kids, but he never backed down from protecting the ones he cared about: Cameron had been his next-door neighbor, the two growing up together; his friends, albeit stupid, had been _his friends_ ; and Joyce, well, Joyce had been his girl. That was what the other kids used to call her: Hopper’s girl, even though they had done nothing more than share a couple of kisses under the stairs once or twice.

Sometimes, she has the impression he still acts like she is his girl.

“You’re both keen on protecting the ones around you…” she continues “especially curly-haired girls and a certain pack of misfits”

Hopper chooses to ignore her, looking intently at the last dishes in the sink.

“I’m glad Will has Mike, you know…” Will still had not harnessed all of his inner strength, but Joyce knew to be patient with him. It was there, she knew, and when the time came, it would pour out of him and stun all around him. But, until then, she was happy he could count on Mike when Joyce wasn’t around. He isn’t as physically strong as Hopper had been, and not nearly as popular, but he has the same aura of protectiveness, righteousness and downright altruism she remembers so well. It had made her feel safe and cherished back then. “You should be glad Jane has him, too.”

They both turn to look at the living room, the three teens now sitting on the sofa. Jane sits between the two boys, book still in hand, pointing at something in it – probably a word – while Will looks it up in the banged dictionary he probably dug from the bookshelf in Jonathan’s room. Mike has his arm on the back of the sofa, their proximity so much that he can almost envelope both of the others in an embrace, his gaze switching from the book to the girl’s face.

“They’re just kids, Joyce...” Hopper says, still looking at them.

“No… they’re not” they haven’t been for a while, now. As much as she had tried to deny it, to _stop_ it, it seemed impossible after everything they have been through.

They stare at each other again, and Hopper just nods, sadly. He knows it is the truth.

“Hey mom” Will stops by the kitchen door “Can we have some popcorn? Before the countdown starts, I mean…”

“Hum… yeah… yeah, sure.”

Her son goes back to the living room, beaming. She hears a squeal from Jane and Mike and Will high-fiving.

“So” she starts, storing the last of the pots and plates and going to look for the popcorn in another cupboard. A change of subject is in order. “How did Jane evaluation go?”

Hopper had told her, weeks ago, about trying to get Jane some professional tutoring. Doctor Owens was on it as well, providing trustable people to do it. Something to do with Witness Protection Program, specialized teachers that could bring Jane up to date without finding overtly absurd that she had never had an official education. As much as Hopper would prefer someone they knew, someone undoubtfully trustworthy, he also knew that getting professionals to teach Jane was the fastest way to get her ready for school next fall.

He seemed to relax a bit, drying his hands and motioning for another cigarette as he sat by the table. “Well… there are good news and bad news…”. He takes a drag before continuing “The bad news is that they confirmed what we suspected: she has no background knowledge whatsoever. She can read, write, and knows her numbers. But that’s basically it.”

Unfortunately, nothing new, indeed.

“The good news” he goes on “is that the kid is like a sponge… She’ll absorb whatever you tell her, never forgetting. One of those kids told her to read the time as if spelling the numbers, five-one-five, and that’s how she’ll do it… The teachers gave her a few exercises and she aced them after only hearing a couple of their explanations. They even suspect some kind of photographic memory or so… wanted to do some tests, but I refused…”

His tone is gruff, as most things about Hopper are, but Joyce can see the pride shining in his eyes.

“That’s promising, right?” she says, as she starts preparing the popcorn.

He smiles, takes another drag, and nods at her.

“She’s excited. They will have to fit six years of education in six months, but they think she’ll do it. They told her to read more, to forget the TV a bit and read to improve her vocabulary… Now she can’t let go of that book Wheeler gave her…” he points to the kids in the next room, still around Jane and her book.

The popcorn starts to pop and they remain silent, Joyce busying herself with it. She occasionally sends a look at Hopper, watching him watch the kids. She tries to distract herself from the memory of the last time she was making popcorn, Bob hovering over her with that video camera.

She feels his big hand on her shoulder. “Hey… you okay?”

Joyce doesn’t nod, doesn’t smile. She doesn’t need to pretend with Hopper, never did. She just looks at him and he understands.

“Let me finish this for you, okay…” he pushes her away, gently, cigarette hanging from his mouth as he takes her position by the stove. “Go join the kids, it’s almost midnight…”

She leaves the kitchen but heads for the bathroom, intended on splashing some water on her face. Joyce doesn’t want to start 1985 with the ghosts of ’84. Will has gotten better, almost no dark circles under his eyes, less nightmares. Jonathan is out with his friends, and he seems _happy_. Joyce has this lump in her throat that she knows will not go away anytime soon. She lets the cold water contain the tears before they fall. Maybe that is just how it’s going to be. She is not stuck, she knows; she hurts less than she did one month ago. She is just going to have to face this grief, taking baby steps.

When she gets back into the living room, the kids are back on the floor, Jane joining them now, with a big bowl of popcorn in her lap. Hopper sits on the couch, watching the cover of the Time’s Square countdown on TV with them, but turning to her the moment she enters the room.

Joyce sits next to him, sustaining his stare before turning to face the TV. They are starting to count, ready to welcome the new year. The kids have gotten up, shouting the numbers cheerfully.

_Ten_

_Nine_

Hopper’s hand sits on the couch beside her leg. She tentatively puts her hand on top of the back of his, letting it land gingerly, as if it is an insect landing on a pond.

_Eight_

_Seven_

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, continues to stare ahead. Their shoulders are touching, his warm next to her.

_Six_

_Five_

Joyce’s finger’s slide between his, curling to grasp his hand in the lightest of touches. His hands always amazed her: for such a brute man, he has the most delicate hands.

_Four_

_Three_

Hopper finally moves, his fingers closing in on hers and squeezing tenderly.

_Two_

_One_

“Happy New Year!”

The shout comes from Will, Mike and Jane, the three hugging each other, throwing popcorn in the air as if it is confetti. She sees Jane leaning in to kiss Will on the cheek, sees her do the same with Mike, her aim changing a bit to peck the corner of his lips. The boy blushes crimson. Joyce thinks Hopper will be bothered by it, but he hasn’t seen it.

He is looking at her.

“Happy New Year, Joyce” he says, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She remembers what he told her, a couple of months ago, sitting on her kitchen, sharing cigarettes with her.

_Nothing is going to go back to the way that it was. Not really. But it will get better… in time._

“Happy New Year, Hopper” she squeezes his hand.

This seems like a nice start.

Baby steps.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your response is amazing and I am humbled by all the compliments you give me. I LOVE each and every one of your comments and kudos, so don't refrain from leaving them!
> 
> A look at the next chapters:
> 
> Chapter Nine: Saturdays  
> Snippets on El’s life in the cabin during the months before summer.
> 
> Chapter Ten: Road Trippin’
> 
> Chapter Eleven: The Sky is a Neighborhood
> 
> Chapter Twelve: Fearless
> 
> Epilogue: Denouement


	9. Saturdays (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I’m sorry it has taken all this time to update! Holidays travels have taken all my time. Hope all of those who celebrated had a wonderful Christmas and are enjoying the rest of the Holidays. But here we are!
> 
> I have decided to split this chapter in two, covering the main events leading to the summer of 1985. There are many mentions to what happened on Christmas’ Eve here, so you might want to check out my previous work: .. ._.. ___ …_ . _.__ ___ .._ (I LOVE YOU). I have turned it into a series to make it easier. ;)

Saturdays easily become Eleven’s favorite day of the week.

Hopper had a double shift at the station once a week, and, when the New Year began, he chose Saturday to do so. Weekdays had Eleven absorbed with her studies. She was the eagerest of learners, and the prospect of joining her friends in school next fall was just the extra push she needed, her full focus on the task at hand. That meant a busy schedule during the days and evenings filled with reading and extra homework. Hopper payed close attention to her progress, boosting her confidence when she felt she couldn’t do it. Sometimes, to appease whatever stress she might be feeling, he would allow her friends to join her in the cabin during the weekdays. Always in pairs – Mike and Max, Mike and Will, Dustin and Lucas, and so on – and only just for a couple of hours. They also had their own days filled with a bunch of extracurricular activities and studies.

But, on Saturdays, he obliged to their constant nagging and let them spend the day in the cabin with her. It was good for Eleven, and it was good for the rest of them. It was also good that it happened on the day he was out, because “those goddam teenagers make more noise than a 4th of July parade!”.

Hopper’s reasoning was that, on their free day, they should be free to be together.

 

*

 

Her Saturdays would always start with a huge breakfast. It was the only meal Hopper knew how to cook properly, and he never disappointed. During that first year in the cabin, she only tasted bits of this talent of his. Either because he was not fully comfortable with cooking for her, or not fully comfortable with _her_ , Eleven didn’t know. Now, though, it pours naturally out of him, this fatherly gesture. Much more than before.

He makes her taste her eggs three different ways in order to choose a favorite: sunny-side up wins the contest. They try bacon and egg sandwiches, oatmeal (she prefers sugar-coated cereal, but does indulge him when he starts scaring her with the possibility of a heart attack over excess calories), and sometimes, even a sausage and potato hash skillet (that is his most gourmet recipe, and he only does it for special occasions. For instance, when she aced her first round of tests).

When Max stays for a sleepover on Friday evenings, they make pancakes in the mornings. Hopper doesn’t get _too_ angry when they make a mess in the kitchen, throwing flour and batter at each other. He even laughs when, on a January morning, the flour tinges his beard white and Max starts calling him “Angry Santa”.

She still eats Eggos every day, but she can admit, at least to herself, that Hopper makes the best pancakes ever.

Eleven and Hopper would always linger a bit longer on the table after the meal is over, asking questions about their plans for the day, or how they would like to spend their Sunday. The conversation is light, and it flows naturally. And when he parts, it doesn’t hurt or scare her. She knows he will come back, she knows they will both be okay.

It is the best way to start her Saturdays.

 

*

 

Saturdays are for nicknaming.

She shares her real name with her friends the first opportunity she gets. Sharing it gives her a sense of freedom, of not hiding anymore. It is not completely clear to her _why_ , but it makes her feel better. They are all splayed on the living room area of the cabin: Dustin, Will and Max crammed on the couch; Lucas on the armchair and Mike on the floor with Eleven, holding her hand.

To share her name means sharing the story of her Momma, her own story. It is also one of the reasons why she wants to do it: she knows these people, knows their stories because they have shared it with her. It is only fair that Eleven does the same. Mike already knows, of course, but stays silent throughout her whole explanation, her hand secured in his, squeezing it when she chokes a bit on the words.

When she is over, the silence reins. Her friends don’t really look at her, but she can recognize their emotions. Will gives her a sad smile, not holding her gaze for long. Max and Lucas are angry, his fists opening and closing, as if he is aching for his slingshot to just shoot someone from Hawkins Lab. Mike’s eyes are warmer than they usually are, encouraging and supportive. When she looks at Dustin, his brows are furrowed and he looks confused.

“So… how do _you_ want us to call you?” he asks, breaking the silence.

Eleven is taken aback for a moment. She had not been expecting that.

“I… I don’t know…”

Hopper had started calling her Jane, and so did Joyce, but it occurred to her that neither of them had actually asked _her_ how _she_ wanted to be called. With Mike, she hadn’t give _him_ much of a choice. This was the first time and she was a bit lost. She still wasn’t used to make the big decisions in her life.

“It’s okay” Mike says, whispering to her.

“I know… it’s just… I just…” now they are all looking at her expectantly. She starts squeezing Mike’s hand tighter.

“Well, we can choose…” Max suggests “and, if you don’t like it, we can just change it…”

Eleven nods, not even one second later. She doesn’t know now, but she will know if she doesn’t like something. Like when Mike called her ‘Jane’ and it did not feel right.

“Great!” Dustin interjects “Can I call you ‘Jean Grey’, then?”

It’s Eleven’s turn to look confused.

And so, Dustin goes on a long explanation of who Jean Grey is, and who the X-Men are. He promises to bring as many comics – after he explains what comics are – as possible for her. Eleven only acquiesces to the nickname when Lucas informs her that three years ago, for Halloween, they went as X-Men, and Mike dressed up as Cyclops. Mike blushes and the tense mood is easily forgotten.

But Dustin doesn’t keep on calling her ‘Jean Grey’ for long. When his fixation moves to his new _Doctor Strange_ comics, he starts calling her ‘The Ancient One’. He replaces it for ‘Eleven’ when he is rushing in his words, or overexcitement takes him.

Max starts calling her ‘Janie El’ a few days later, sometimes going just with ‘El’ sometimes going just with ‘Janie’. It sounds easy, and not forced at all. Eleven likes it, smiling a bit the first times she does it. Lucas keeps calling her ‘Eleven’, but he goes for ‘Janie El’ once or twice, even tenderly calling her ‘Weirdo’ when she uses her powers to flip the grilled cheese sandwiches they make for lunch on a given Saturday. Will mostly calls her ‘Eleven’, and it would bother her if he didn’t say it so reverently, if it didn’t sound so tender in his voice. He goes with ‘El’, sometimes, but those are rarer occasions.

Mike is the only one that always calls her the same.

To him, she is always El.

 

*

 

Valentine’s Day is on a Saturday.

Eleven knows what Valentine’s Day is. If anything, she had heard about it from the little TV she had been watching these days, filled with advertisements about it. Hopper catches her looking intently at an add during breakfast this morning (it features a couple kissing) and looks at her, squinting his eyes.

“Any plans for Valentine’s?”

She plasters her face with her best blank expression (Max mentioned she had a great “poker face”. Although she did not know what that meant, she understood that involved not demonstrating what she was really feeling).

“What is Valentine’s?” friends don’t lie, but she doesn’t think not sharing information counts as lying. Besides, is not like she has a plan. She needs to _know_ exactly how this thing works before forming a plan.

He studies her a bit longer, Eleven’s heart starting to beat faster in her chest, but she does not relent her façade.

“It’s a date where people give gifts to their Valentines…” She opens her mouth to ask what a Valentine is, but Hopper beats her to it. “It’s the person you like the most… _Romantically…_ ” he says the last part with that sarcastic tone of his, the one she came to associate with things he thinks are stupid.

His eyes are squinting again.

“So…” he starts, but she interrupts him.

“What are you giving to _your_ Valentine?”

His eyes bulge like saucers, then, completely exasperated by her question. He grunts an answer she cannot understand and leaves for work, barely saying goodbye. It’s a rare occasion to embarrass Hopper.

Eleven feels extremely satisfied with herself.

It is, however, quite annoying that she now has no one to help her with the problem at hand.

Valentine’s Day is in a few of days.

And there is Mike. Her _boyfriend_.

The word still makes her stomach flutters in the most exquisite way.

It’s a celebratory date, she knows, like Halloween and Christmas. A _tradition_. She likes those, and she wants to do it properly.

Eleven has _no idea_ how, though.

On TV adds, she sees men giving red roses and heart-shaped chocolate boxes to their girlfriends, but nothing to help her on what to give Mike. While she likes the chocolate idea – maybe she will get Mike some Eggos – she completely abhors the idea of giving dead flowers to someone. Nonetheless, it still… it feels so little. If this is a date to celebrate how much one person likes the other, she wonders if there is _anything_ she could give him that would compare to how much she cares for him.

 _Loves him_ , she corrects herself. _She loves him. And he loves her_.

She needs to ask someone for help. Hopper is, obviously, out of question. While she is sure he is fond of Mike, she is not so sure he is fond of the _Eleven-and-Mike_ package. Mike himself is also not an option. She tried Max, but the girl had started rambling about Valentine’s being a purely commercial date, with no real historical background at all, created with the sole purpose of-

“So, what are you giving Lucas?” she had asked her red-haired friend over the SuperCom.

It had worked on her the same as it had on Hopper. And, again, Eleven was left with a satisfactory grin and no assistance whatsoever.

On the Tuesday afternoon before Valentine’s Day, Will is over at the cabin with Steve. Jonathan has his shift at the dinner, Joyce is also working and Mike is out with Nancy on an errand outside of town. Steve had volunteered to bring Will in, and is now hanging out on the sofa with a magazine in hand while the kids work on their assignments.

Will is currently working on his Art project. That’s what he usually does when he visits her on weekdays. Eleven enjoys the craftworks, and Will appreciate the help. Today, he is making a leather cover for his notebook, cutting pieces of leather, designing and staining and varnishing them, completely focused on it. Eleven is supposed to be finishing a Biology essay, but her mind keeps wandering to the other things occupying her thoughts.

They are sitting on the dinner table, art supplies scattered and occupying most of it, working in silence for over an hour now. Eleven bites her pen, gazing the boy in front of her for a few minutes before deciding to try once again.

“Will…?” she starts, lowly. Either he doesn’t listen, or he is concentrating too hard on cutting a piece of leather in a straight line. She extends her arm until her hand reaches his shoulder, poking him lightly. “Will…?”

The boy startles with a short yelp, letting go of the ruler and the knife in his hand.

“What? Eleven, what?” even Steve looks at them, alarmed.

She looks at him, curiously, one eyebrow raised. She did not know Will could be frightened so easily.  When she notices his breathing is back to normal, she continues.

“Valentine’s Day is on Saturday…”

The boy just stares at her, his cheeks turning a fade shade of pink.

“Yeah… I guess, yeah…”

Will seems slightly confused, but she continues. She is a bit desperate, now.

“What do you give on Valentine’s?”

“Oh…” his hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck “I… I don’t really know… I… don’t have a lot of experience with girlfriends…”

“And boyfriends?” Eleven is more interest in this part, anyway.

Now Will’s cheeks turn bright red. She thinks she can actually feel the heat emanating from them from her seat across him.

“I… I… I don’t have a lot of experience with those, either…”

Eleven hears an amused chuckle coming out from where Steve is sitting on the couch, and observes as the older boy gets up and comes in their direction, pulling a spare chair.

“Need a hand, kid?” he asks, sitting backwards by the table and putting a hand on Will’ shoulder’s.

“Hum… Eleven wants to know about Valentine’s Day…” he informs, flustered.

Eleven didn’t know Steve that much. She had heard about him fighting the Demogorgon with Jonathan and Nancy, and the Demodogs last year with the boys, but she never had a chance to directly interact with him. Dustin always had something good or funny to share about him, so, she had decided he was a nice person. Most importantly, though, she knew Steve had been Nancy’s boyfriend – Mike would sometimes complain about the two of them during those 353 days of one-sided conversation with her. He was bound to know how this whole Valentine’s Day thing worked.

She nods to him. “About presents” she adds to Will’s comment.

He crosses his arms “Let me get this straight… this is about Mike, right? A gift for him?” she nods again, brow furrowing. Did he think she had any other Valentine? “Hey, just making sure…” he says, apologetically “Okay, what exactly do you want to know?”

“I don’t know what to give him” she clarifies.

Steve looks at Will before answering her “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Elev” he stops, looks at Will again, quickly correcting “Jane” Will shakes his head, a smirk on his face, and Steve finishes with “Eleven.”

She sighs, exasperated. This is _not_ the answer she is looking for. She wishes she had Joyce over today, she had been so helpful the last time she had come up with doubts like this.

“The thing is” Steve continues, sensing her frustration “Mike already has a lot. His father may be an obnoxious prick, but he has a fancy job, and there isn’t much the Wheeler kids want that they don’t get… Besides, I think Mike already got what he wanted the most the moment _you_ stepped into the Byers’ house last year, so…”

Eleven feels her cheeks heating up at that. It is quite flattering to hear this and it makes her heart swell, _but it still does not help her_.

“You could always make him something” Will chimes in “I mean, gifts always mean more when you make them yourself…”

“Yeah!” Steve agrees, heading back to the couch, apparently satisfied with how this conversation went “Make him a pretty card or something. Hell, I bet he would be head over heels happy with a macaroni necklace, as long as it came from _you_ ”

Eleven refrains from scowling at him. She still doesn’t understand all of those conflicting emotions going on inside her. For instance, right now, she is happy that Steve thinks Mike will like anything she gives him, at the same time she wants to make him stumble on his feet for not taking her seriously and suggesting she makes him a child’s toy.

She settles for moving the couch just a tiny bit behind him, moments before he sits, making Steve fall on his butt.

“Hey!” he complains “I was just trying to help!”

Eleven tilts her chin in defiance. She doesn’t even try to clean her nose. This amount of movement requires very little effort from her.

“Don’t worry, El” Will reaches for her hand, holds it in his “I’ll help you make him something, if you want.”

She smiles, thankful. Will is a great friend, and she is happy to have him. But she is still at lost on what to give Mike that would convey what he means to her.

Until she looks at her left hand, still in Will’s. Until her eyes land on the blue headband on her wrist.

She stares at Will again. She has an idea.

 

 

“Good luck, Romeo!” Nancy shouts from the open window of their mother’s station wagon, driving away to the left road. She even honks the horn before – _finally_ – leaving Mike alone. _So much for being discreet_.

He doesn’t bother waving at her, turning and starting the hike to the cabin. He _had_ considered walking all the way up here, but the prospect of it taking hours, not to mention that Hopper would probably murder him if he knew he had been walking through the snow, had made him relent and accept his sister’s ride. It’s not like he is not grateful. If anything, Nancy has been more of a partner to him these past couple of months than she had for probably her whole life. This morning was yet another example: he wonders if Past Nancy would have taken the time, on Valentine’s Day, to drive her little brother around before vanishing with her own boyfriend.

Probably not.

It is _cold_. Snow had stopped falling a few hours ago, leaving a thick layer of it in the woods. It’s a beautiful scenery, and he takes it in in the silence. His friends had all miraculously declined joining him to visit El today, claiming previous appointments.

_Yeah, right._

He feels a little indebted to them for being so considerate. It is so, so rare for him and El to have some time alone, just to _be_ with each other. They hadn’t, not since those stolen moments on Christmas’ Eve – the memory of El exploring his face with kisses and touches is still one that makes his cheeks flush. Mike feels most of the moments they have had together have somehow been stolen. He loves his friends and family, he truly does, and he knows that El feels the same, but sometimes… sometimes, he can’t’ help but want her just for himself, if only for a bit.

Like today. Today is theirs. His and his _girlfriend_.

The cabin comes into view and he remembers to keep his eyes on the ground, avoiding the tripwire and, by extension, a rerun of the showdown from the last time he ventured these woods alone.

The butterflies in his stomach come to life when he places his foot on the first steps leading to the porch. He had been looking forward to this day for _weeks_ , now. Even more than the SnowBall. He raises his hand to knock, but the door flies open before he even touches it.

Behind it, of course, is El.

“Mike!” he barely has the time to look at her, before she flings herself into his arms, hugging him around the neck. His breath is momentarily lost, and he gives a step back to balance them both as his arms encircle her.

“Hey El” he bents his head to whisper in her ear. She shivers in his embrace, and Mike is not so sure it is because of the cold. He tightens his arms around her just a little more.

“I missed you” she says, her voice muffled in his scarf.

“Me too. So much” even if they had seen each other last Saturday, even though they had spoken every night through the SuperCom. It was not enough.

El moves, then, her arms falling from his neck and breaking the embrace. He gets to stare at her deep brown eyes for one moment before she closes them, getting on her tiptoes and pecking him on the lips.

Mike startles for one second before responding, his mitted hand coming up to touch her cheek. She pulls back the next moment, though, looking worriedly at him.

“Your lips are cold” she informs him. He can hardly believe her: he feels completely warm. “Come in” El takes the hand still on her cheek and leads him inside, closing and locking the door behind them with a flick of her free hand.

He removes his snow boots and his many coat layers, hanging them by the door, placing his backpack on the floor and noticing how El is looking anxiously at him.

“What?” he asks, regarding her in her washed jeans, her scoop neck, baby pink sweater, her grey socks. Her curls have grown a bit more, reaching below her ears now.

“What time are the others coming?” and she moves to peer through the window, behind the shutter.

Mike swallows a bit. He had maybe, not – _totally_ – on purpose, forgotten to mention to her that their friends were not coming.

“Hum… they said to apologize, but they were a bit busy, today, so… today is, well… todays is only me.”

He watches her turn and stare at him, mesmerized.

“Is it okay?” he asks, because he can’t quite read the expression on her face.

El responds by running to him again, throwing her arms around his middle. He is prepared this time, and doesn’t bounce, instead wondering if there will be a day in which he will tire from those hugs.

He breathes her in, taking in her smell – jasmine shampoo, the woodsmoke from the oven and the faint smell of cigarettes – and focus on how her hands curl on his back, how her cheek presses on his neck, how her hair tickles his nose.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, today” Mike says.

At that, El disentangles herself, beaming radiantly at him.

“Yes!” and she takes his hand again, guiding him to sit on the couch “I have a present for you.”

_Oh._

“You do?!” he had been expecting to be the only one with a gift today.

“Of course” she replies, moving to her bedroom and coming back a few moments later with a small, blue bag. El hands it to him, shyly, and he notices the bag is made of fabric, a grey ribbon tying it together with a bow.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mike” she says, voice small and smile timid, looking at him through her lashes as she sits next to him.

He has a stupid grin on his face, he is completely aware of that, but he can’t help it. This is so… he was not… he didn’t think she would be able to get him anything, still being confined to the cabin. This, whatever it is, is so much more than what he was expecting.

Mike leans in, kissing the corner of her smiling lips.

“Thank you!”

“You haven’t even opened it!” she exclaims.

He shrugs, because it doesn’t matter, but unties the bow, and turns the bag to let its contents fall on his hand.

At first, he fails to understand what it is. But then, he examines it more carefully in his hands and figures it out. It is a bracelet, made of leather. Brown and black strips and cords of leather intertwined and braided to form a beautiful pattern, tied together by a metal hook. It’s quite unique, something he has never seen and a thought occurs to him.

“Did you… _did you make this_?”

She nods, a bit sheepishly. “Will helped me cut the strips, but I did the rest…”

Mike can only stare at her.

“It’s… it’s beautiful, El! It’s, amazing” he says when he can find his voice again.

She bites her lower lip, looking away from him for a moment, before pointing at the underside of the bracelet.

“There’s a message…”

Mike immediately turns the accessory and inspects it, finding the now familiar pattern of dots and dashes inscribed in one of the strands. He is not so good at Morse Code as El is, but he knows almost immediately what it’s written there.

_.. ._.. ___ …_ . _.__ ___ ..__

_I LOVE YOU_

Mike has never felt so overwhelmed his whole life. Yes, he knew El loved him, she had let him know, tapping this same message to the skin of his neck all those weeks ago. Still, it was something altogether different to have proof of it given to him, so warmly and tenderly, scribed on a gift she herself made. That sentiment of pure joy, mixed with a bravery he usually doesn’t feel, takes him. Only El can make him feel like this.

He delicately places the bracelet on his lap, moving closer to El and placing both of his hands on her cheeks, his forehead touching hers.

“El” he starts, eyes closed, voice hoarse and breathy “This is _perfect_ … I just, I just wanted to be with you today… that was my gift… but this… I don’t know what to say…”

Her hand comes to the back of his neck, fingers curling on the soft hairs on his nape. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know she is smiling. It is quite rare for him to be at loss for words. Mike leans forward, his nose touching hers in a tender caress before their lips meet.

El’s lips are soft and pliant under his, moving when his do, her head tilting in harmony with his. He caresses her cheeks, the hand on his neck drawing patterns on his skin, feels her own skin heating up under his fingers as they take turns capturing each other’s bottom lips between theirs.

They are getting good at this kissing thing.

When the need for air surpasses their need for each other, they share one last peck before breaking apart. Mike takes the bracelet again, not bothering to move away from El.

“Can you help me put it?” he asks, extending it to her and pulling the sleeve on his left arm.

Mike barely notices her fastening the bracelet on his wrist, his attention completely caught by her flushed cheeks, her red-kissed lips. He is only halted from kissing her again when she falls back to sit on her legs under her, looking triumphally at his arm.

“There…”

The leather is soft, and weights almost nothing, the dark colors of the strands a stark contrast to his pale skin.

“It’s perfect” Mike repeats it. “So… are you ready for your present, now?”

El’s smile glows again as she nods, gazing back at him with childlike excitement. _Adorable_ is the only word he can think to describe it.

Mike reaches inside the pocket of his jeans, removing a small, black velvety box from it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, El.”

She takes the box from him, eagerly opening it to reveal the jewelry inside.

“It’s a medallion” Mike says as she removes the silver necklace completely from the box, examining carefully between her fingers.

He has had to work all sorts of strange jobs since early January – when he had decided he wanted to give her a necklace – to afford buying this one. Replacing the sick delivery boy from Radio Shack, removing snow from basically all of his neighbors’ porches and driveways every damn time it snowed, babysitting Holy so his mother and father didn’t have to actually call a babysitter. That, and he abstained from going to the Arcade for weeks now, every penny from his allowance stored for this. Nancy had driven him to antique stores three towns down from Hawkins, claiming she wanted to find some old records for Jonathan, but Mike suspected she just wanted to help him. He saw this one on the third store they had visited and deemed it absolutely perfect for El.

 Her thumb traces the figured engraved in the pendant, eyeing it curiously “It’s a… a hummingbird. Have you ever seen one?” he asks.

She raises her head to look at him. “Yes… in the summer. They kiss the flowers.”

Mike smiles “Yes! And they fly, like, super fast. Their hearts beat at an abnormally fast rate. They are really strong, and graceful. They hoover mid-air, most birds don’t do that” He is rambling, like he always does, but he pushes forward “I once held one, in my hands… and… and… when you came back to me, and I… and I held you… it felt like holding that hummingbird” El is staring at him intently, holding onto his every word. He cups her cheek in his hand, caressing it lightly with his thumb “You’re both fragile to look, but with the strongest of hearts…”

She closes her eyes, leaning on the touch, covering his hand with hers.

“Thank you” she whispers, turning her face and kissing his palm. Mike feels a shiver running down his arm, filling his whole body with that ice-cold/fire-hot feeling he sometimes has with El.

“This one…” he starts “this one also has something inside it…”

Mike gently takes the medallion from her hands, opening the oval pendant and showing its content to her. On one of the halves, there is a picture of him, the one Jonathan took when they were at the SnowBall and he was watching El goofing around on the dance floor with Dustin and Max. His expression is a bit dreamy because that had been the exact moment he had realized he loved her.

El has taken the necklace back, fascinated by the small picture inside it.

“You are not looking…” she smiles as she says it. She knows he hates taking pictures.

“No… I was looking at you” he confides “Will asked me if I loved you… and… and I said yes”. El’s expression grows serious, her brown eyes glistening. Mike points at the picture “Jonathan took the picture… I didn’t even notice. But when I saw it among his pictures from the SnowBall, I knew what he had captured. I asked him to scale it down to fit here because I… I wanted you to have this… this moment.”

She doesn’t cry, although he can see some tears in the corner of her eyes when she smiles at him. Instead, she throws her arms around his neck again, hugging him so tightly he has difficulty breathing. His hands find her back, running up and down while he feels her taking deep breaths by his neck. One of her hands is balled into a fist, the medallion secured in it, the other has found its way to his nape, playing with his hair.

They don’t move much, they are not in a hurry, and Mike certainly doesn’t mind holding her for as long as she wants. He can feel her heart beating fast against both their chests – _hummingbird_ –, calming as the moments pass.

Her arms fall to her side and she catches his hand.

“Help me put it on?” she asks, getting up, his hand still in hers.

Mike follows her to her bedroom. Her walls are littered with pictures from the SnowBall. Mike has seen them before, had helped hang them with her and their friends. He lingers by his favorite, touching it with his index, the one where they are both laughing hard while she is in his arms, having just fallen there after spinning so many times.

“Mike” El calls him, soft smile on her face as she waits for him by the mirror.

“Sorry” he says, hurrying and positioning himself behind her, extending his hand for the medallion.

 El stands straight, looking at him through their reflection in the mirror. He takes the jewelry, opening it and placing it around her neck. Mike tries to focus on fastening the hook of the necklace or her nape, and not on the porcelain skin of her neck, nor on the small birthmark she has behind her right ear. His fingers tremble a bit, hindering the action, but he manages When he is done, neither of them move, staring at each other through the mirror.

“Pretty” she says, looking at him. The pendant falls low between her collarbones, the chain delicate and in harmony with her skin.

 _Pretty_ is not a good enough word, but it will do for now.

“The prettiest” he says, his arms encircling her waist from behind her. She leans into him, head resting on his shoulder and he gives into his urge and bends his head to place a tender kiss where her neck and shoulder meet.

He feels her shuddering, and she quickly turns, placing both of her hands on his chest and rising again on her tiptoes to kiss him until they are both flushed and out of breath.

“Hey” Mike says, moments later, as she leads them back to the living room area “I brought some marshmallows. We could make hot chocolate” he suggests.

El nods, enthusiastically. The prospect of hot chocolate exciting to her.

Mike peeks outside when he goes fetch the marshmallow bag from his backpack, noticing it is snowing again.

He has an idea.

“El” he starts, heading back to the kitchen, where she had already started preparing the chocolate “It’s snowing. What if we sit on the bench by the porch? We can take a bunch of blankets out, bundle in them, watch the snow fall while we drink hot chocolate.”

Her face falls a bit, her eyes not meeting his.

“I don’t like the snow” her voice is low, nothing above a whisper.

“What? Why? Why not?”

“I was alone in the snow… and in the rain. I don’t like either of them.”

_Shit._

Mike feels really stupid now. _Of course_ she doesn’t like the snow, she had already told him about her time hiding in the woods. He should know better.

But then…

“What if we make it different this time? You were alone, before. But now, I’m here… with you. I’ll _always_ be here with you” Mike reaches for her hand, squeezing it softly. “We can make new memories…”

She eyes him for a long moment, gaze switching to look suspiciously to the front door, before settling on his eyes again and nodding.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

She nods again “Yes… new memories”

“Cool!” he bends to press his lips to hers, short and sweet, already loosing count of how many times he has kissed her today.

Mike gathers all the blankets he can find and heads outside. It _is_ freezing, but is also a Winter Wonderland, the snowflakes dancing as they fall lightly on the woods’ turf, turning everything white and magical. He lines the bench with a fluffy quilt and places the others on top.

Inside, El has the beverages ready, placing the marshmallows – three for her and two for him – inside the big mugs. He takes his own winter coat and dresses her in it. His is much warmer than any of the ones she owns, and he absolutely does _not_ want her to feel cold.

“What about you?” she asks, putting on her snow shoes.

Mike takes the flannel coat from the hanger, the one that belonged to Hopper and that El wears. He unfolds the sleeves and puts it on.

“I’ll be fine”

They head outside, sitting on the bench as their drinks float behind them. Mike throws a blanket over both of their backs, another that practically covers their heads and two over their laps.

“Warm enough?” he asks when they are settled.

“Almost”

The mugs hoover in front of them, Mike reaching for both and handing El hers.

They sip their drinks, watching as the snow falls and covers the tree branches like magic fairy dust. The hot chocolate warms them from the inside, and, when is over, they place their mugs on their sides, scooting closer together. Mike’s arm goes around El’s shoulders as she leans on him, placing her head on his shoulder, their hands intertwined under the blankets.

“Now I’m warm” she says, moving even closer to him. Mike smiles, placing his cheek on top of her head, feeling her fingers playing with the bracelet on his wrist while his hand reaches for her neck, feeling the thin chain grazing both of their skins.

 

This is the first of many Valentine’s Day they will experience. Still, it will always remain as Mike’s favorite.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I had cavities writing this last bit, just a side note)
> 
> Good news! I’ve started working on the “First Times” story, and I have several prompts to fill. Still, if you have any suggestions or ideas, do let me know.
> 
> As always, thank you for the amazing support! I love hearing from you all, so feel free to stop by and leave comments and kudos!


	10. Saturdays (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten days and one flooded laptop later, here is Part II…
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and support. I love you all. Here is a 10k chapter to make it up for my absence.
> 
> Something serious, something angsty  
> Something fun and something fluff

She gets her first period on a Saturday.

At first, Eleven doesn’t know that there is _something_ going on. It is still too early in the morning, she can tell by the light coming from the window in her bedroom without having to open her eyes. She is laying on her back – something weird, she usually sleeps on her side –, feeling a heavy and uncomfortable weight on her lower stomach.

Her first reaction is to reach for that aching area, expecting to find Max’s arm slung across it. They are having yet another sleepover and, as Eleven had discovered, Max is what Hopper calls a “cuddler sleeper”. More often than not, she would wake up to the girl’s arms clinging to her form in their sleep, or her legs strewn heavily across hers. Eleven usually doesn’t mind, but this time, it is really hurting her.

She is surprised when she reaches down her stomach and finds nothing. Finally opening her eyes, she turns her head on the pillow to face the back of Max’s head, her mane of red curls spread behind her. She is laying on her side, facing away from Eleven, their bodies for once not touching.

A sharp pang comes from her lower belly and Eleven lets out a small whimper. If it isn’t the weight of one of Max’s limbs, then what?

Sitting up, she removes her covers and raises her pajama shirt to further examine her stomach. She doesn’t see anything different, the skin looks normal, there are no scratches or weird marks.

And then she sees it.

A red stain on her pajama pants, between her legs. A blood stain, growing bigger under her eyes as another twinge runs down her body, spreading from her pelvis to her legs and lower back.

“Max” Eleven calls, voice low and strangled. “Max…”

She feels panic rising inside her. Is not that she is afraid of the blood itself. She is more than accustomed to it by now. But it had _never_ come from this part of her, and it is right now, and there’s this unfamiliar pain coursing through her and she feels like crying-

“Max” she grabs her shoulder roughly.

“Shut up, Janie, let me sleep…”

Eleven starts shaking, her breathing coming fast. She has seen people bleeding from places they shouldn’t and they have _died_. The trembling intensifies and she notices that it’s not just her body that is shaking, the bed is.

“What the…” Max finally awakes, turning to look for the source of all the noise and movement. “Janie, what is it?” she asks when she notices the dread in her face. “You’re shaking… you are shaking the _bed_! El, _what is it_?” she takes her by the shoulders and forces Eleven to look at her, but she can’t.

“Bleeding” she says. Her mouth moves, but fear has paralyzed her body, she cannot move, her powers bursting out of her. She feels the trickle of blood running down her nose and it just means she is bleeding _more_.

Max looks from her face to the place Eleven keeps staring at, finally seeing the red stain between her legs.

She repeats the movement a few times, Eleven’s face and the stain.

“El” she starts “EL!” she shakes her shoulders, hard, until their eyes meet. “You are okay, El. Listen to me, I _promise_ you are okay”

“But I’m bleeding…”

Max hugs her and Eleven almost collapses into her, being held calming her somehow.

Hopper opens the bedroom door in a rush, alarmed, at the same time the bed stops shaking.

“What’s happening?!” he takes the scene in, Eleven hiding her face in the crook of Max’s neck as yet another painful spasm runs through her.

“It’s nothing…” Max answers, running a soothing hand up and down Eleven’s back “Janie got her period, that’s all…”

Period.

Somehow, Eleven knows she does not mean the dot at the end of a sentence.

Lifting her head, she sees Hopper widening his eyes, expression shocked.

“Oh”

She tenses.

“It’s okay, Janie. I get a period, too” she turns to look at the girl, her eyes unusually soft “It sucks, but it’s okay. Chief, you’re scaring her” she scowls at him.

Hopper breathes loud, in and out, a few times before nodding his head.

“Right… sorry… I’ll just… I’ll just go… I’ll run into town… and bring Joyce” his eyes shine at his own idea “Yeah, I’ll bring Joyce!” and he turns, hurriedly.

“Start the bathtub before you leave!” Max orders.

He stops, turns to glare incredulously at Max. Eleven has never seen anyone giving Hopper orders and he is just as taken aback as she is. They sustain their glares for a few moments, until he relents, nods, and steps away from the room.

Max huffs. “Men get all weirded out when they have to deal with periods…”

“Why am I bleeding?” the information that whatever this is, it also affects Max and she _hasn’t died_ is enough to make her ratiocinate again.

“It’s called a period, or menstruation… Basically, it’s our body’s not so subtle way to tell us we’re not kids anymore” she sighs, gets up, runs a finger under Eleven’s eyes, cleaning tears she did not even know were there. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. I think I might have some extra pads in my backpack…”

Max helps her out of her dirty clothes and into the bathtub. She busies herself with those and the sheets while Eleven soaks in the lukewarm water, still a bit confused by the whole thing. She watches mesmerized as Max teaches her how to line her underwear with the pad, before changing into clean clothes and sitting on the couch with a bottle of warm water over her belly.

“Those are cramps” the girl explains “You’ll be fine, Janie El” Max sits next to her, giving her a side hug.

Before Eleven can formulate any of the many question she has right now, she hears the familiar knock on the door. Two. One. Three. Max motions to get up, but Eleven just unlocks it with her mind, hugging the bottle a bit tighter to her lap.

“Hey…” is Joyce, voice sympathetic, several bags in her hand. Eleven notices some of its contents have the same coloring of the pad Max gave her earlier. She is closely followed by Nancy. The older girl immediately comes to Eleven’s side.

“Hey there… hope you don’t mind me tagging along… I just thought you would like some extra female company today…” she smiles, placing a warm hand on her knee.

“How did you know?”

Nancy’s smile broadens.

“Direct line”

“Hopper came to my house earlier” Joyce starts “Before I left, I told Will it would be better if the boys didn’t come to the cabin today…”

“Good call” Max notes, and Eleven remembers her remark about men getting weird.

“Will radioed Mike” Nancy continues “Mike was worried, but I put two and two together and said you would be okay…”

Eleven ponders on it for a moment. She doesn’t feel any more pain in her lower belly, just the same unpleasant weight from before.

“Will I?”

“What, be okay?” Eleven nods. “Of course!” both Joyce and Nancy answer.

“I… I still don’t understand what’s happening”

And so, Joyce starts a long explanation on womanhood, of the changes her body will undertake. She tells her about how her breasts will grow – “we need to go get bras for you asap, I don’t care what Hopper says about security!” – how she will develop curves and soften in places. Joyce mentions how boys are different, getting taller and broader and bulkier, voices going deeper – and Eleven remembers listening to Mike’s voice changing on those 353 they were apart.  She tells her about periods being a monthly thing, that it will keep on happening until she is in her fifties. Eleven almost burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetie…”

“But it’s gross!” she exclaims, while Joyce hugs her again, trying to console her.

Max stares at the exchange, nodding, surprisingly a bit frightened herself.

“It’s a good thing, Eleven” Nancy intervenes “it means you’re healthy, it’s a good sign. It means you’ll be able to bear children one day, if you want”

When Eleven’s expression communicates her total lack of understanding on her last sentence, Nancy sighs, assuming what could only be called a professorial posture, and launches into a Biology class Eleven will experience again in a few months.

Nancy describes female anatomy, talks of uteruses and ovaries and what they are for. She takes paper and pencil from Eleven’s stash and draws the parts she is talking about, while Joyce prepares peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for them all. Nancy writes dawn a table with the days of the month, talking about cycles and fertility.

“You’ve never heard of sex, right?” the older girl asks, speaking softly despite the professional look.

Eleven shakes her head no.

Joyce joins in and, after Nancy details the mechanics of the act, both women start on the importance of consent – they have to clarify what the word means for Eleven – of being prepared, of not letting any outside pressure, either from a partner or a friend or society as a whole, goad her (them, because Max is hanging onto each of their words just as much as Eleven is) into doing something they are not ready for.

“Your body, your rules” she deadpans “Understand?”

Both girls instantly nod. Joyce looks at Nancy with something akin to pride.

But they also talk about pleasure, about intimacy and love. About self-exploration and body acceptance. How, with the right person, at the right time, it can be something wonderful.

Eleven and Max exchange a look, before nodding their agreements.

They spend the rest of the day at ease. After such deep conversations, they are in need of something light. Max sits on the floor, between Nancy’s legs, while she shows her how to braid her hair three different ways. Joyce takes some scissors e gives Eleven’s curls a proper haircut, styling it a bit away for the bowl cut it was turning into. Nancy had brought some nail polish and they take turns painting each other’s nails, Eleven going with bubblegum pink and Max only agreeing because she found a shade of brown so dark it resembles black.

By the middle of the afternoon, Eleven turns the TV on, switching the channels until she finds one with an old black-and-white movie and a beautiful lady on it.

“Hedy Lamarr, once the most beautiful woman in the world” Nancy clarifies “She is an inventor, you know? Helped the army with radio technology during the war…”

They watch the story of the beautiful immigrant escaping the war and finding love amidst it all. It is a special broadcast, celebrating iconic female movie stars from the past. They watch “ _Breakfast at Tiffany_ ” afterwards, Eleven completely fascinated by the gorgeous outfits and elegance. Through the rest of her life, she will associate _elegance_ to the ladies in the movies she watched that afternoon, and every gala ball she attends in the future – there will be plenty –, she will wear a different version of the little black dress she saw that day. Max and Nancy leave a little after “ _Cleopatra_ ” starts, and Eleven can tell her red-haired friend will be catching on that movie later: her eyes had been sparkling throughout it. Joyce stays with her until Hopper arrives, right after the snake bites Elizabeth Taylor’s finger on the screen.

Joyce gets up from the couch, kisses her forehead. “I’ll be going now. If you need anything in the coming days, let me know, okay?”

Eleven nods, reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “Thank you” she says it with all her heart.

“It was a pleasure, sweetie”

Hopper sees her out and accompanies her to her car. Eleven doesn’t hear their goodbyes, and it takes quite some time for him to return. When he does, he sits next to her on the spot Joyce had just vacant.

He stares at his hands for a moment before addressing her.

“Important day, today” his voice is tender, as if he thinks she will break “I know I freaked out a bit in the morning. I’m sorry about that, but… you can count on me. I’ll try and find a way to help you, kid… always”

 Eleven leans into him, feeling Hopper adjust his stance so his big arm falls around her shoulder, engulfing her in a warm hug. They don’t hug much, but right now, it seems important.

On the day she biologically and socially becomes a woman, it feels oddly soothing to have him call her “kid”.

 

*

 

Will talks on a Saturday.

They are playing board games in the living room of the cabin. Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Max have the Monopoly board on the floor, screaming and protesting at each move, while Eleven and Will play Scrabble on the sofa. Their board is already pretty full, the little wooden pieces filling most of the blank spaces. Eleven usually plays during week nights with Hopper and is getting better at it with each passing day.

“Lucas, do something!” Dustin exclaims, pointing at Max “She’s ripping me off!”

“To each his own, man… not my fault you suck at this” Dustin just flips him off.

“You don’t want to join them?” Eleven turns to ask Will.

He looks at their friends, Max is now trying to intervein in an argument between Mike and Lucas. “Nah… I’ve had my share of it. Dustin complains all the time, Mike and Lucas are way too competitive for this and I’m sick of breaking their fights. This is much better…”

“ _Shut up_ , the two of you, or I swear to _God_ , I’ll flip this damn board!” Max yells. Mike and Lucas just ignore her, continuing with their banter, although Dustin shiftily puts a protective hand on top of his pieces.

“On second thought” Will starts, gathering their own game “Maybe we should store this one before they notice it. The only thing that gets them even more hyped than Monopoly is Scrabble."

Eleven smiles at him, helping collect all the pieces.

“Do you want to play something else?” he asks, getting up.

She nods. “Mike brought some extra games on Tuesday. They are in my room”

Will stores the Scrabble back in its shelf, heading for her bedroom. Mike and Lucas have finally let go of their argument and Mike moves a little, leaning his back on the couch next to where Eleven sits, his hand moving to her hanging ankle, playing absentmindedly with the hem of her jeans’ pants while he considers his next move.

They don’t notice Will coming back. They don’t look his way, but Eleven does and tenses all over.

He has the board games Mike has brought and takes steady and careful steps in their direction, not taking his eyes from the boxes in his hands.

“Will?” she asks, worriedly, because she has never seen the expression he has on his face right now. Shock and outrage and downright _fury_. “Will…?”

The others finally quiet, looking first at Eleven, and then at Will.

“What… what are these doing here?” his voice is low and cold, sending an unpleasant chill down Eleven’s spine. She doesn’t understand.

Mike gets up immediately, stance strained.

“I did it. I brought them here” he says.

“ _Why_?” Will all but shouts.

“Because it’s not good for you!” Mike answers with indignant fervor, taking one step towards the shorter boy. “Because you’re wasting away looking at them all day. It’s not right!”

“ _You_ had _no_ right!”

“Just take it back” Eleven gets up too, hurrying to Will’s side, but refraining from touching him “I didn’t know they were yours, I don’t need them. Just take it back” She cannot think of a reason why Mike would take something that belonged to Will, something that is clearly important to him, away, but she doesn’t care. She just wants them to stop shouting. Will moves away, though, dropping the boxes unceremoniously on the table.

“They are not his” Lucas states, voice small and serious.

Eleven sends a helpless look to her friends. _She doesn’t understand_.

“They… they were Bob’s”

Will flinches so much at Dustin’s words she thinks they might have physically hurt him. He puts both hands on the back of a chair, grasping it so tightly his knuckles turn white.

She knows who Bob is, has heard how he had helped them out of the lab, escaping the monsters. Most importantly, though, she has heard how he had died doing it. She knows who Bob was.

Will keeps muttering under his breath, lowly and coldly.

“You had no right. You had no right. You had no right”

“Will” Mike says, and Eleven notices how he tries to sound calm “I… I asked your mother. And she’s worried too” he takes a few tentative steps towards him “We thought it was only making you feel worse to have it in your house… we just… we just want you to feel better”

Will glares at him, eyes red with unshed tears. “But I don’t. I don’t want to feel better”

“Will…” and Mikes extends a hand to his shoulder.

“No!” he roars and shoves Mike’s hand away, pushing him on the shoulders. It’s so uncharacteristic of him, the anger, the borderline violence, it makes them all cringe. Mike has to take several steps back to avoid falling. “You don’t understand! _You can’t_!”

“Then tell me! Tell us! We’re your friends, we just want to help you”

“Don’t you see?” he gesticulates angrily “You’re all… you’re all looking at me like I’m a victim. Like I need saving. _I don’t want it_. I’m broken and you keep trying to fix me… I don’t… deserve it” his voice is strangled, the tears heavy in his timbre.

“Will, c’mon, man, don’t do this to yourself” Lucas comes closer, still maintaining some distance between them.

“People _died_ ” he cries “They died and it’s my fault!”

“No!” so many of them say it, Eleven cannot identify the voices.

“I sent the soldiers down the tunnels” Will continues, now crying openly.

“You can’t blame yourself for the things the Mind Flayer did!” Max exclaims.

“It wasn’t your fault!” Mike heatedly adds.

“ _It doesn’t make anything better_! You say it wasn’t my fault, but Bob would never have gone to the lab if it wasn’t for me… he came because of _me_. And… and then he died. I kill… I killed…” his voice trails off and he quiets.

He quiets because Eleven stands in front of him. She doesn’t say anything, just approaches him, one step at a time. He is trembling, she can see as she gets closer. They are almost the same height now, and she looks him straight in the eyes, the blue-green in them blurred by tears.

“I killed him” he whispers.

“No”

“I killed them”

“ _No_ ” she doesn’t raise her voice, but says it firmly.

“I’m weak and I’m broken and it’s _my fault_ ”

She doesn’t let him continue, throwing her arms around him. Eleven pulls Will’s trembling form to her, holding him as tight as she can. He winces at first, shoulders rigid, but then she whispers to him.

“I understand” she does. She truly does. Is probably the only person in this room who knows how it feels to carry the kind of weight it comes with the guilt Will is feeling.

He completely breaks down. His arms encircle her in a tight embrace while the tears role down his eyes. His hands clutch her sweater on her back while the sobs ravage his body.

“It gets better” she tells him, feeling tears in the back of her own eyes “I promise, it gets better.”

“ _When_?”

Eleven doesn’t have an answer for that, so she just holds him tighter.

Will’s knees buckle as he wails harder, all of the pent-up emotions he had been keeping for months now pouring out of him. Eleven goes down with him, supporting his weight, both the physical and the emotional one, as they fall to the ground.

She feels movement around her, sees their friends surrounding them, Mike kneeling close to their side.

One of Will’s hands move from her back to grasp a handful of Mike’s sweatshirt, bringing him to them.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay, Will. It’s going to be okay” he reassures, his arms encircling both Eleven and Will.

Dustin, Lucas and Max come closer too, sitting around them and placing consoling touches on the still crying boy.

It takes a long time for Will to cry himself out, all of them at his side while the sobs turn to silent tears and finally subside. He is exhausted when it’s over. Eleven and Mike help him move to Hopper’s bed, and he lays there with his head on her lap, Mike taking a seat on her other side. She runs her fingers through Will’s hair, a soothing caress that she hopes calms him. Dustin, Max and Lucas sit on the floor, their backs to the bed, close and ready to take action if needed.

Steve and Jonathan show up later, ready to pick the kids from the cabin, just to find them like this. Jonathan is immediately alarmed. Will has his eyes closed – Eleven is not completely sure he is asleep –, but the tear stains are still visible on his cheeks.

“What happened?” the older boy asks anxiously.

Max gets up from her spot. “It’s okay, now. He’s resting. C’mon” she takes her coat from the hanger, opening the door and motioning for the older teens to follow her “I’ll explain outside.”

Jonathan comes back a little while later, alone, his expression strained. He doesn’t say anything, just places a warm hand on Will’s shoulder, careful not to wake him, and moves to sit on the couch. Every once in a while, he casts a worried look in the direction of his brother, but still remains silent. They all do.

It is a little over an hour later when Steve and Max come back with Joyce and Nancy in toe. Joyce enters the cabin in a flurry of worried energy, immediately going for Will. Eleven still has her fingers tangled in his hair, Mike’s every now and then joining hers to move a strand from the boy’s forehead. Now, she is pretty sure he is sleeping.

Jonathan stops his mother before she does get to Will, moving her to Eleven’s bedroom and shutting the door. Max goes back to her earlier position, sitting by the bed snuggled between Dustin and Lucas, while Nancy joins Steve in the couch, brows furrowed as they try to send gentle looks in the direction of the kids.

When Joyce re-emerges, she still looks worried, but somehow calmer. She approaches Will, kisses his forehead. He barely twitches in his sleep. She shares a significant look with Mike, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. She caresses Eleven’s cheeks, and the girl sees her do something similar to the others sitting by the bed, before moving to the armchair.

Hopper arrives to the cabin much later in the evening. He takes in the scene in front of him: they haven’t moved much, some pillows positioned differently to better accommodate sleepy bodies, some heads leaning onto the other’s shoulder.

“Is everything okay?” he asks lowly, the question directed at Joyce.

She looks around the room again, eyeing Will’s still sleeping form, sharing a glance with Jonathan sitting on the couch.

“It will be… in time…”

He breathes in, nodding, taking his hat and gun, before joining them, sitting on the floor next to where Joyce is.

They don’t talk, none of them does it. They don’t have to, it’s enough to share the silence. Eleven leans her head on Mike’s shoulder, feels him taking her free hand and keeping it cradled in his warm ones. Will sighs in his sleep and she swears she can feel the weight gradually lifting from his shoulders.

They will be okay.

They will.

 

*

 

Saturdays are for music.

“Hey! _Hey_! Watch the tripwire, you morons. The whole goddamn neighborhood doesn’t need to know we’re here!”

“What neighborhood?” Lucas asks by his side “We’re, like, in the middle of nowhere.”

_Hum. Kid’s got a point._

Still, Steve keeps an eye on Dustin chasing Mike through the woods. In his enthusiasm to poke his friend with a dry twig – Mike is, apparently, extremely ticklish –, Dustin might discharge the tripwire unintentionally, or both of them could topple over a rock or something and fall.

Shit. He is beginning to sound like his great-aunt Margaret.

_Stupid kids._

Dustin changes his target from Mike to Will, the shorter boy squealing before teaming up with Mike to hold Dustin is place while they throw piles of dry leaves and dirt onto the boy’s head. Lucas just shakes his head, smiling. Screw the tripwire, with all the laughing and shrieking they are making, if there _was_ anyone else around, they would have been heard ages ago.

Despite his complains, though, Steve cannot bring himself to really mind. The sounds fill him with something good, something he cannot get a hang on what it is, yet. It’s there, undeniable and omnipresent, growing with every moment he shares with these kids. He barely speaks to his classmates nowadays, hasn’t been wasted in months and the last party he attended he was there with Jonathan and Nancy, not Tommy H. and Carol.

He might have believed, if someone had told him before, that this is where he would end up, if only they had omitted from him how fulfilled he would feel. He never expected that the company of a bunch of thirteen-slash-fourteen-year-olds and his ex-girlfriend-plus-her-current-boyfriend would turn him into a much better version of himself, making him feel so…

Complete.

“Hey, wait for me!” Mike yells, disentangling himself from Dustin and Will and rushing to meet Steve and Lucas on the stairs to the cabin’s porch.

Steve is already by front of the door, hand positioned to knock. Two. One.

And then the door opens to reveal Max behind it.

“What the f-”

He jumps, startled, and he is pretty sure he hears the gasps from the boys behind him. It’s not like Steve didn’t know Max was already there. He had been the one to bring her yesterday for her sleepover. The problem is what Max _looks_ like right now.

“Watch your mouth, Harrington”

She is wearing high-waisted white pants – maybe they are pajama pants? Steve is not sure –, a large black leather belt, her white t-shirt tightened with a knot on her back, the sleeves pulled up to her shoulders and tied together with a clip to make it look like the shirt was sleeveless to begin with. Her hair is pilled in a knot on the top of her head, too. That, and she has a thick mustache painted above her lips.

“Max, what the hell?” Lucas asks, because, yeah.

“Freddie” she says, crossing her arms in front of her.

“What?” they all ask.

The girl huffs. “I’m not Max, I’m Freddie” and she twirls once for them, reaching inside and coming back with a hairbrush in hand “Freddie Mercury”

Will is the first to laugh, the first one to understand, soon followed by Dustin.

“You interrupted the show!” a shout comes from inside, Steve immediately recognizing Nancy’s voice.

Max beams, opening the door further to let them all in.

Jonathan and Nancy are there, comfortably sitting on the couch, the smiles still plastered on their faces. Jonathan has a cassette radio on his lap and an array of tapes on the coffee table in front of him. Nancy has her makeup bag and, Steve notices, her fingers are smudged with blue and red eyeshadow.

Before he can say anything, he hears Mike bewildered call.

“ _El_?!”

Turning right, they see Eleven coming from her room and, yeah, he understands Mike’s incredulity.

Even though her clothes are normal – just jeans and a grey t-shirt – her hair is gelled back, specked with red, and the right half of her face is covered in blue and red, forming a lightning bolt. She also has a hairbrush in her hand.

“I’m not El…” she starts, smiling somewhat mischievously, something Steve never thought her capable of. “I’m–”

“Bowie!” Will exclaims, eyes shining “You’re Ziggy Stardust! Perfect, El!” Steve thinks Will falls a little in love with the curly-haired girl just then.

Her smile widens as Mike keeps the awestruck look, staring at her. Max comes and joins them, standing next to Eleven as the boys crowd around them, flooding them with questions.

“What’s this all about?” Steve asks, coming to sit next to Nancy. She has her back to Jonathan, leaning on him, and immediately tucks her bare feet under Steve’s legs.

It feels oddly familiar.

“I finally finished all the mixtapes” Jonathan answers, and Steve notices the tapes have the names of the kids on their covers. There is even one with his name on it. “Max got a bit too excited when she saw there was Queen in hers. El decided she adores David Bowie and, well…” he points to the girls. Max is holding the hairbrush as a microphone with one hand, the other raised in the air. Will is having a closer look on Eleven’s makeup as the girl stands still.

“You made one for me too?” he hadn’t asked for one.

“Of course I did. I mean, I put stuff I think you’ll like…”

He takes the tape, looks at the names of the songs and bands/singers written on the back, but he can only recognize about half of them.

“I trust you, Byers. It’ll be good”

Steve used to know music, was actually pretty good at it. Hell, if he had continued on the path he was some six years or so ago, maybe he would be able to discuss the stuff with Jonathan like equals.

“Wow! Cool!” Lucas says, when he sees the mixtapes, taking his. “Thanks, Jonathan!”

“Can we please continue with our show? We _did_ dress up, you know?” Max interrupts, pulling Eleven by the hand.

Nancy claps her hands “Yes! The floor is yours!”

Mike and Dustin come to sit on the floor and Will and Lucas each sit on one arm of the armchair. Jonathan presses play and the first tunes of a very good bassline start, followed by handclaps and finger snaps. Steve takes the mixtape named “Max” and reads the name of the first song: “ _Under Pressure_ ”.

Max and Eleven take the center of the room, hairbrushes/microphones in hand. When the first verses start, they take turns dubbing the parts of each of their personas, both totally in character.

_Pressure pushing down on me_

_Pressing down on you no man ask for_

_Under pressure that brings a building down_

_Splits a family in two_

_Puts people on streets_

The red-headed girl gesticulates widely, moving from one side to the other of the room, while Eleven remains on the same spot, her makeshift microphone held in place with her powers, shoulders and hips and knees moving. She enunciates every word with emotion written on her face.

_It's the terror of knowing_

_What the world is about_

_Watching some good friends_

_Screaming 'Let me out'_

_Pray tomorrow gets me higher_

_Pressure on people, people on streets_

Eleven starts snapping her fingers to the rhythm of the beat while Max now sings directly to her audience. These girls have definitely been watching a lot of MTV.

_Turned away from it all like a blind man_

_Sat on a fence but it don't work_

_Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn_

_Why - why - why?_

_Love love love love love_

_Insanity laughs under pressure we're breaking_

_Can't we give ourselves one more chance_

_Why can't we give love that one more chance_

Steve completely understands the expression heart-eyes now that he looks at Mike, watching Eleven, grinning from ear to ear. Mike is not the only one, though. They are all enraptured by the two girls, laughing at their antics. Will gets Steve’s attention, though, as he taps his hands enthusiastically on the armchair, singing along.

_Why can't we give love give love give love give love_

_Give love give love give love give love give love_

Max kneels in front of Lucas and Will, making both of them hug their bellies from laughing. She goes back and joins Eleven, both now lip-singing shoulder to shoulder.

_'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word_

_And love dares you to care for_

_The people on the (People on streets) edge of the night_

_And loves (People on streets) dares you to change our way of_

_Caring about ourselves_

_This is our last dance_

_This is our last dance_

_This is ourselves_

_Under pressure_

_Under pressure_

_Pressure_

The room erupts in applauses amid the laughter. Will and Dustin immediately get up, throwing their arms around the girls.

“That was so awesome! So cool!” Dustin congratulates. “I want to sing, too. Nancy, can you do my makeup?”

“Who do you want to be?”

The boy reaches for his mixtape, looking at the names on the back, before he snaps his fingers and exclaims excitedly.

“KISS! I want to be Gene Simmons!”

Nancy propels herself from the couch, makeup bag in hand. The other boys help, improvising a mixture of flour and water to plaster on Dustin face, turning it white. Nancy draws black, pointy patterns around his eyes, following the instructions Jonathan gives. The end result is actually pretty good.

Dustin and Max do a lively rendition of _I Was Made For Lovin' You_ , the boy using a broom as a guitar. Eleven seems a bit disgusted as he gets too caught up with his performance and licks the broomstick. When they put on Mike’s tape, they all make fun of him when _Every Breath You Take_ is the first song to play, his cheeks turning crimson – Steve notices Max and Lucas also look embarrassed, despite their teasing. They chase each other around the room using their hands as guns when the theme from _Miami Vice_ starts playing from Lucas’ tape.  There is a moment when they all freeze, Will starting his tape to have _Should I Stay or Should I Go_ blaring from the speakers. This song has been present in too many traumatizing events for the boy, but he simply shrugs.

“Music is one of the things that saved my life” he looks at Jonathan “This song in particular. It’ll always be my favorite”

Mike takes Eleven’s hand and dances with her in a corner of the room when “ _As the World Falls Down_ ” starts playing from her tape, ignoring yet again the incessant teasing from their friends. She sends them a glare upon returning, and they pretend not to notice the smudge of red and blue on Mike’s cheek and lips.

“It’s a shame none of us play any instruments” Will says, excited when he takes Steve’s tape and presses play to _Highway to Hell_ “We could play real music and sing for real if we did…”

Steve perks up in his seat. He enjoys the song, as he knew he would, and the others are still excitedly reveling in their musical afternoon, but that is not what has given him a jump. He just had an idea.

 

 

On the next Saturday, instead of picking the kids up in their respective houses before heading to the cabin, Steve asks them to meet him in his own house. On the agreed time, he hears the doorbell ringing.

“Over here!” he shouts from the garage.

He has the whole thing settled, has spent the previous afternoon cleaning the place up and placing his old instruments in place. Taking one final look at his doing, he feels pleased with himself. _Perfect_.

Some six years ago, Steve had been in a band with his former friends. It had lasted until his mid thirteens, when Theodore and Peter – twins, his bandmates – had to move back to Chicago when their father’s company relocated him. It had broken Steve’s heart at the time, but he quickly replaced whatever sadness he was feeling with the prospect of high school fame and the rise of King Steve, none of which went well with having a band with his dork friends.

His parents had, as with everything he set his mind on, purchased him and his friends only the best instruments available at the time. And here they were, little treasures from his secret past left behind, hidden in his garage. The years spent without usage hardly harming them.

“Steve?” is Mike’s voice “Steve, c’mon, we’ll be late”

“Just a moment, we’ll be out soon” he says when he sees the kids coming in.

He kind of has an idea of how this will go, and places internal bets with himself on the reaction of each of them.

“Wow! What are these? Are these… _are these yours_?” Will, of course, asks the moment he is inside the garage, going straight for the drum set.

Steve’s assumption number one: correct. Will would be fascinated with the instruments and forget about the world around him. Steve has actually done all this for the boy, so, he is more than happy to see he was right.

“They used to be, yeah.”

“You played the drums?” Dustin incredulous voice inquires.

“I actually played the bass, but my bandmates left their instruments when they moved away from Hawkins”

“Wait, you were in a band? Like, a _real_ band?” is Max turn to ask.

They both continue with their questioning. “ _Who were they_?”, “ _What kind of music did you play_?”, “ _Can you still play_?”, “ _Did you sing_?”, “ _Can you play for us_?”.

Steve’s assumption number two: correct. Max and Dustin would be more interested in knowing about his past history than the actual instruments.

Lucas hears them rambling their questions for a while before he leaves to inspect the instruments and speakers. He checks them with a clinical expertise, Steve reminding himself they do belong to the AV Club in Hawkins Middle, but not with the same glint in his eyes as Will does. Soon enough, his attention is diverted to his father’s Porsche, parked a bit further away from where the instruments are laid.

Steve’s assumption number three: correct. Lucas would be happy for his friends, but music is not really his thing. The boy goes further enough to pop the hood of the Porsche and look inside into the engine. Neat.

Will is sitting behind the drum set the next time Steve looks at him, drumsticks in hand as he plays with it a bit.

“This is _so_ cool!” he still has that fascinated look on his face.

Steve can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess. Hey, hum, they’re just here accumulating dust, so, if you promise me you’ll take care of them, they’re yours.”

If Steve thought Will’s eyes were shining before, it is nothing compared to now.

“Really?!” he asks, standing up and walking towards him.

“Sure, why not?” again, that has been his main idea all along, the reason why he pulled this whole thing of “When you become a famous drummer, just tell everyone I was the one who initiated you into the business and we’re even.”

He is surprised, although he shouldn’t be, when Will hugs him.

“ _Thank you!_ ”

It is only when they disentangle that Steve notices he has missed his forth assumption.

Mike.

He had thought the boy would nag and annoy the hell out of them for taking too long to go to the cabin, totally ignoring the music and the car. However, not only has the kid been silent so far, he has been out of sight. Steve looks around, not spotting him at first, but finally finding him close to the stairs, completely entranced by the guitars, staring keenly at them.

Steve’s assumption number four: wrong.

“You like them?” he asks, approaching him.

“Yeah” he says, voice a bit breathy, fingers lightly touching the strings. “They seem… special”

“They are.”

“Can you teach me? How to play, I mean” the eagerness in his voice is almost contagious.

Steve sighs. “I would, If I could. Guitars were always a bit harder for me, I was a bass man myself. That, and I haven’t played in years, so…” before the disappointment can creep into Mike’s features, he adds “but you’re welcome to choose one. I’m sure Mr Adams will be thrilled to have students finally interested in his abilities. You can squeeze in another extra-curricular in your schedule, right?”

“Are you serious?” a large grin spreads into his face.

“As a heart attack. And I’d pick the Gibson, if I were you…”

Mike immediately takes the guitar, puts it in its case reverently, and even carries it with him to the cabin, enthusiastically showing it to Eleven.

It’s a bit of a bigger hustle to move the drum set to Will’s house, because, at first, they have nowhere to put it. Jonathan, excited when he hears about it, suggests they do some small adjustments to the shed behind the Byer’s house to accommodate everything – and avoid Mrs Byers going insane with Will’s practicing. All of the kids join Jonathan and Steve in the task, and they have it done over one weekend.

Sometimes, when Steve goes to pick up Max and drive her to her house, he sees Mike and Will heading for their music class with Mr Adams after school. Mike will have the red guitar case over his shoulder and Will will be playing with the drumsticks, throwing them in the air or thumping it on the side wall of Hawkins Middle.

The glow they had in their eyes that Saturday morning, the first time they laid eyes on his old instruments, will still shine bright.

Proud is the sentiment Steve will feel.

Of both the kids and himself.

 

*

 

Mike’s birthday is on a Saturday.

 

 

“He’s going to kill me.”

“He won’t.”

“He is. He’s going to find _us_ , and he’ll kill _me_. I’m the responsible adult, here”

Eleven sighs. “You’re being overdramatic…”

She doesn’t let it show, but she is quite pleased with herself. Her vocabulary has improved a lot in the past months, a result of all her reading, her tutoring, but mostly the time spent with her friends.

“No, I’m not” Steve is not looking at her, his arguments directed straight ahead as he bangs his hands on the steering wheel. “All you have to do is _stare_ at Hopper and you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger. Me, on the other hand, will have my ass on a stick once he finds out about all this…”

“Now you’re just being a pussy…”

“Hey!” he lets out an indignant yell, finally turning to her “Where the hell did you learn that, huh?”

“Dustin” a vocabulary improvement indeed.

“You do know you’re spending way too much time with those shitheads, right?!”

The smirk crawls its way into her lips and she does not stop it. It’s too dark, anyway. Steve won’t see it.

They are sitting in Steve’s car, on the corner of Mike’s house. It’s late, the windows of most houses in the neighborhood darkened, as they check yet again if there is no one around.

There isn’t.

“Are we going?” she asks him, growing a bit impatient. “I could walk from here, if you think it’s better” she can already see the house in the distance.

The older boy sighs, purses his lips, annoyed beyond all measure, but turns the keys and starts the engine of the car, keeping the headlights off.

Eleven should not be here, she knows full well. Is a breech in the agreement she has with Hopper, and she is dragging Steve along with her, but she cannot get her head around the fact that there isn’t much wrong with what she is doing.

Mike’s birthday is tomorrow – in half an hour, actually, it will be officially his birthday – and they had made such great plans to spend it together. Jonathan would come earlier to the cabin and help Eleven bake a cake, Mike would join later with their friends and they would have a blast. And, there was his gift, the one Eleven had spent days preparing. She had been so excited about it. That was, until his parents ruined it all.

Ruin is perhaps too heavy a word, she can admit it. Mike’s grandparents wanted to see him. They now live in Chicago and had arranged reservations for dinner in a fancy restaurant in the city. The plan is to leave early in the Saturday morning to spend the rest of the weekend with the old couple, returning late on Sunday evening. They had done something similar for Nancy’s birthday a few months earlier, and Mike had berated himself for not seeing it coming before. He had felt helpless, he had told Eleven, because he didn’t have the heart to say no to his grandparents – they hardly saw each other – but he’d also been heartbroken to spoil all of their weekend plans. Their busy schedules and Mike’s mother insistence in having everything ready for their small trip had kept Mike away from the cabin all week, to top it all off.

Eleven had been equally bitter all week, until this Friday evening, when a golden opportunity had presented itself. A crash, two trucks colliding in a curve in the outskirts of Hawkins. No injured, but “a total mess”, as Hopper had put it. The collision had spilled the contents one of the trucks was carrying: diesel. Inflammable and highly dangerous. The road would have to be cleaned with special equipment, and the pathways would have to be diverted, resulting in Hopper leaving the cabin in a flurry, only expecting to come back in the late hours before dawn.

 She had _tried_ not to smile when he had delivered the news.

Convincing Steve to help her had been fairly easy. He was earlier at the cabin to pick up Lucas and Max, when she had stepped out into the porch with him, revealing her plan to go to Mike’s house and surprise him at the stroke of midnight. She just needed a ride. With his obvious refusal, she had shrugged, staring intently at him and simply said she would then walk.

At eleven sharp she had heard the know on her door – as she had known all along she would – and now, here they were.

“Okay...” Steve sighs for the umpteenth time that evening, parking his car in front of Mike’s house “You’ve got ten minutes”

_What?! No!_

“One hour” it’s not even midnight yet. She needs more time.

“Ha! In your dreams, Curly Locks. I am _not_ risking the Chief finding this out. Fifteen minutes”

“Half an hour” she bargains “I just want to give him his present. Please”

A bit of moonlight comes through the window on her right, illuminating inside the car. She sees the exact moment Steve’s resolve falters.

“Don’t doe-eye me like that! That’s what’s gotten us into this mess to begin with…” he massages his temples, inhaling deeply before finally saying “Half an hour, not one minute more, you hear me?” she beams even when he points his index finger at her “If you’re not here in thirty minutes, I’ll go up there pick you up myself _and_ I’ll make my life’s mission to interrupt every date you have with that boy until you’re fifty.”

That last one is quite a scary threat, but Eleven does not let it affect her. She leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Thank you, Steve!”

“Yeah, yeah…” she thinks she can see him blushing “Go on, Juliet. Go climb to your Romeo’s window… Wait, that was the other way around” she eyes him curiously “Never mind, just go on… go on before I get my sanity back”

She doesn’t wait for that to happen and exits the car, clutching Mike’s gift in her arms.

Spring had already started, but the night breeze was still chilly, and Eleven can feel the goosebumps forming in her skin as the wind penetrates her hoodie. Mike’s hoodie, actually. The one he had forgotten in the cabin the last time he was there, and that she now cannot stop wearing.

His bedroom window is the first one from the right, so, she threads softly until she is standing right beneath it. Looking around her one last time, she sees no one besides Steve in his car. She bites her lips and closes her eyes, focusing on feeling herself becoming light, lighter than air. On the next moment, she feels her feet leaving the ground and then she is floating. Se opens her eyes, making sure she is heading in the right direction.

The window is locked, but now that she is hoovering closer to it, she can see a faint light coming from the inside. Maybe he is still awake? That would mess a little with her plans. She jerks her head to the right, hearing the lock opening and seeing the window rising slowly. Peering inside, she can see Mike’s form on top of his bed, illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand, unmoving and fast asleep. Perfect. She climbs all the way in after signaling Steve with a wave, cleaning under her nose with the sleeve of the hoodie.

The first thing she does is look at the digital clock by Mike’s bed. She has half an hour, now. It reads 11:49. Eleven minutes to midnight. She smiles.

She puts Mike’s gift on top of the table by the window, carefully and silently. It has been over one year since she has been in this room, and Eleven can see the changes. The walls are still painted blue, the Science trophies still litter the top of his drawer, but now his walls have more movie posters, and she sees some extra ones rolled up by the foot of his bed. The biggest difference, though, is the boy now currently sleeping on the bottom unit of his bunkbed. She moves closer to where Mike is, approaching him with care.

His lanky frame occupies almost the entire bed. He is wearing blue sweatpants, slightly short ones, and his feet are bare. Eleven had never seen him with his feet bare and it feels strangely intimate to do so right now. She is glad he is still sound asleep and does not see her blush violently.

She continues to observe him, her eyes traveling up, to his bent knee, to his rumpled white t-shirt, slightly lifted to reveal a patch of pale white skin on his abdomen. He has his left arm thrown on top of his head, the leather bracelet she made for him contrasting with the light-blue pillowcase, while his right hand holds a piece of paper to his chest. His eyes are moving underneath his eyelids and Eleven smiles as she thinks of him dreaming. His expression is soft, pink lips parted just a little as he exhales in his sleep.

Never had she had the chance to study Mike so closely, so freely. With them, something quite peculiar happens. When they are with their friends, Mike becomes shyer, more controlled. She feels a bit of tension on his lips if they kiss when someone else is around, and she thinks that when they hold hands, the support goes both ways for them. Alone, though, alone with _her,_ Mike is completely free, as if a dam has been broken and he can finally show her exactly how he feels. It is quite the opposite for Eleven. When the others are around, she has distractions, can split her focus to other things. When it is just the two of them, she cannot escape the explosion of emotions this boy makes her feel. It is feverish and all-consuming and scary in a way that should frighten her, but it doesn’t. She fights for air when he kisses or touches her sometimes, mostly because he had started with the habit of placing his hand on her neck, his long fingers playing with the chain of the medallion he gave her. Eleven is sure, one of these days, she will burst into flames when they are alone.

Right now, though, she is free to be with him without combusting. She counts his eyelashes, stark black against his cheeks, commits the pattern of his freckles yet again to her memory. She probably could draw them by heart now, but it is always good to remind herself. She is particularly fond of the darker one on his chin, right below his bottom lip. His hair has grown differently since the last time he had it cut. Curlier, thick raven locks huddled on top of his head, now forming a halo. Soft to the touch and always smelling of lemongrass.

_Pretty._

Even if she has learned so many other words with the same meaning, this one is special. It’s theirs.

Mike’s hand twitches in his sleep and he clutches the paper tighter in his chest. It is then that Eleven notices he is actually laying on top of an assortment of papers and sheets, littered beneath and around him on the bed. She can identify some Chemistry homework, his Dungeons & Dragons character sheet, one or two D&D books, music charts – she sees the guitar Steve gave him placed neatly beside the bed – and has to stifle a laugh. That is the exact reason why she made her gift for him what it is.

A few weeks ago, Dustin had demanded they go back to play a new campaign.

_“We haven’t played in months… you guys didn’t want to” Mike had said, sadly._

_“But we should! I mean, the only reason we can somewhat understand the otherworldly things that have happened to us is because of D &D” Dustin had argued. “I say we become even bigger pros in the thing and we’ll be ready for anything…” _

Mike had a campaign ready in one week, bringing Eleven and Max their character sheets, while all of the boys took turns explaining how the game worked. Amid all the excitement, Eleven could not help but notice how _completely_ disorganized Mike’s things were. Sheets falling from his binder, his Biology essay hidden amid the pages of his campaign, not to mention the drafts for said campaign lost inside his D &D books. For someone who seemed to own all the words, Mike could be quite careless with how he kept them.

For that reason, she had asked Hopper to buy the biggest notebook he could find. If Mike had a notebook to scribble all of his ideas, there would not be so many sheets lost all around. It had a hard cover, making it easy for her to decorate it the way she wanted. Like a Scrabble board, one he had to find the words amid the letters. She had spent days skillfully cutting each letter from an array of magazines, placing them together to form words like “ _promise_ ”, “ _friend_ ” and “ _love_ ”: words she had learned from him.

Looking at him now, she is sure she chose the right gift.

Eleven turns in time to see the numbers on the clock turn from 11:59 to 0:00.

Midnight. Mike’s birthday.

He continues to sleep soundly, oblivious to her. She sits gingerly on his bed, careful not to move it much. His head turns towards her, but he continues to sleep. Eleven bites her lips, lowering her head until she is millimeters away from his face. _I’ll wake him up just like Sleeping Beauty_. She closes her eyes and leans forward all the way, feeling their lips touch.

Mike does not react at first, but then she feels his lips moving under hers, like a reflex. She pulls back a little, just in time to see his eyes fluttering open. He looks at her, bewildered, as she openly smiles at him.

“El?” his voice is hoarse, his tone confused.

“Happy birthday, Mike”

He moves, sitting up, and she rises a bit to let him do it.

“Is this a dream?” he asks, still astonished.

Eleven’s smile broadens and she takes his hand, placing it on her cheek. “No… I’m very real…”

The touch seems to ground him somehow. Both of his hands come up to her cheeks and he looks at her like he did all those months ago, when she came back to him in Will’s house.

“El… El…” and he throws his arms around her, his face buried in her neck while he hugs her fiercely.

She does the same, encircling him with her arms as she feels his shoulders shuddering, his breathing jagged.

“Mike… Mike, what’s wrong?”

He keeps his tight grip on her a bit longer, only letting go enough to place his forehead against hers, hands going up and down her sides.

“Nothing… nothing is wrong. Is just… I used to have this dream, when you were away. That I would wake up one day and you’d be here, in my room, back to me… And every time I woke up and you weren’t, it just… it made it hurt so bad” she touches his cheek, closing her eyes because she doesn’t like to remember that time “But this… this is _so much_ better than any dream I ever had.”

She opens her eyes to see him smile just a moment before he kisses her.

It is one of those kisses, the long ones. The ones where their lips move and dance, their arms bringing them closer until their torsos are flushed together. One of his hands finds its way up to her hair, longer now, and he runs his fingers through her tresses. Eleven takes this as permission to do the same with him, running her fingers through his raven locks. Feels him gasp a little into their kiss when her fingers touch his scalp.

Bursting into flames. She still doesn’t know how that had not happened yet.

“How did you get here?” he says, breathlessly and with his eyes still closed, his face still inches from hers.

“I flew…”

“All the way from the cabin?” he raises one eyebrow.

Eleven lets out a giggle.

“Of course not… Steve gave me a ride”

“Steve?!”

She nods. “He’s downstairs waiting” she looks at the clock again – nine minutes – and interrupts whatever question she is sure he is about to ask “I don’t have much time. I just wanted to see you before you leave tomorrow early… and bring you your gift”

“Oh?”

She gets up, pulling him with her by the hand. She sees at least three music chart sheets falling to the ground, not to mention his Chemistry assignment that sticks to one of his feet. Eleven openly laughs when he tries to disentangle himself.

“Happy birthday, Mike” she says again, handing him the wrapped notebook.

He pecks her lips before start opening it, ripping the paper in his enthusiasm.

“Cool!” he says when he finally sees it, his hand caressing the cover. His finger goes under the word _promise_.

“Words” she explains “So you can keep _your_ words safe… not scattered around your room” and she points to the mess in his bed.

“Are you saying I’m a messy person?” he asks in mock indignance.

“Maybe a little” she leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth “And this” she reaches inside the pocked of her (his) hoodie “you can use it as a bookmark.”

It’s a picture of them, the one from the Snow Ball where she has fallen giggling into his arms. He always looks so fondly at the copy she has in her bedroom at the cabin, she figured he should have one too.

Mike smiles fully then, his grin only becoming brighter when he turns the picture and sees what she has written on the back.

“Yours and mine?”

“Yes… yours and mine”

_Always._

He places the book back on the table, the picture on top, and hugs her, kissing the top of her head when she snuggles into him.

“Thanks, El… I’m… Gee, it’s good that you’ve given me words, because with you, I keep losing them all the time…”

Eleven raises on her tiptoes – he has become _so_ tall – and kisses him fully until she can feel tingles all the way down her toes.

“I have to go, now” she says, eying the watch mark 0:17.

“No…” Mike pulls her in for another hug, his arms around her waist, and lifts her off the ground.

“Mike!” she yelps, quickly hiding her face in his shoulder to muffle the sound a bit. “Steve’s waiting…”

“Let him wait…”

“He’ll climb up here and take me down by force” she exaggerates.

“Ha! I’d like to see him try.”

“He threatened to spoil our future dates…”

Mike sighs, putting her down at last. Eleven takes his cheeks in her hands and stares at him.

“Happy birthday, Mike” a kiss and one step back “Have a nice trip tomorrow” another kiss, another step “Be safe” his hands come up her cheeks as well “I’ll see you next Saturday and we will bake a cake” she has reached the window “Go back to sleep, now”.

Mike’s eyes are still closed when he nods “Okay”

One more kiss and she is out of the window.

“I’m still not convinced this wasn’t a dream” he says as she hoovers by his window.

Eleven smiles at that, turning to litter his face with small kisses.

“Goodnight… goodnight… goodnight” she says with each one.

“Such a sweet sorrow, indeed” Mike murmurs, although she does not understand what he means “Goodnight, El…” and he gives her one more smile.

Eleven has trouble descending to the front yard of his house.

She has never felt lighter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could NOT resist putting a guitar in Mike’s hand (#sorrynotsorry). Also, I missed writing Steve so much, he had a double feature in this chapter! *.*
> 
> Plus, I'm a sucker for Mike and El exchanging gifts...
> 
> We are getting to our final chapters. Four to go!
> 
> Hope you’ve all had a great first week in this 2018! As always, thank you again for all your kind words. I absolutely love hearing from you, so don’t be shy and leave a comment / kudos.
> 
> Next chapter: Steve has a great idea. Again.
> 
> Music credits:  
> Queen & David Bowie - Under Pressure  
> KISS - I Was Made For Lovin' You  
> Police - Every Breath You Take  
> Jan Hammer – Miami Vice Theme Song  
> The Clash - Should I Stay or Should I Go  
> David Bowie – As The World Falls Down  
> AC/DC - Highway to Hell
> 
> And a bit of Shakespeare that I hope you guys have picked up. ;)


	11. Road Trippin'?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beautiful people, I have some things to say, but I’ll save it for the end. For all of you still following this story, I want to say a huge THANK YOU!
> 
> There is very little Mileven in this chapter, but plenty of Steve, party bonding, a bit of Lumax and a lot less road tripping than the title of the chapter would suggest. I promise a shit-ton of Mileven fluff on the next chapter, though.

The idea comes to Steve on an idle Tuesday.

Dinnertime at the Harrington household is always a curious affair. It can be just Steve, sitting on the living room sofa and watching TV while munching down on his pre-heated, frozen dinner. It can be Steve by the oven and sink, trying to put together the mac and cheese recipe Jonathan gave him for the kids (usually Dustin and/or Max) as they laugh at his inability to do so (they will, however, eat whatever he puts on their plates). Or, as it is right now, completely silent, as he dines with his parents.

Food is much better when Jack and Linda Harrington are at the house, his mother always hiring the services of one of Hawkins finest cooks. It amazes Steve how much he would like to trade the delicious homemade fried chicken dinner for that ridiculous baloney sandwiches Dustin likes so much. If only it would take him from here.

It’s not that his parents are bad people per se. Steve has the mind to try and be fair in the judgment he makes of them. They have never been abusive, nothing was ever missing in their house or in Steve’s education. If anything, he’s always had everything and more he could possibly want. It’s just… they are _not there_. They are _never_ there. Not for the good, definitely not for the bad and not even when _they are in the room_. Growing up had been quite a lonely process for Steve but, somehow, he had gotten used to it. He’d tried (still tries) with all his might to avoid the old and worn cliché of the “poor little rich boy” by living with only the idea his parents represented. And, he has the impression, his parents are doing the same with him: Steve is only an idea, a beautiful ornament in their lives, not real enough to require the relinquishment of a life full of travels and business appointments.

This results in very long stretches of silence by the dinner table on the rare occasion they are actually in the house.

“Can I have the potato salad, please?” Steve asks his mother.

She starts a bit, as if she has forgotten there are other people in the room. It is fleeting, though, as she recovers promptly, smiling at him as she passes the bowl before quickly returning to the magazine sitting next to her plate on the table. His father doesn’t even look up from his newspaper. The only noises filling the room are the occasional clattering of silverware in china plates. Steve sighs.

“Oh, Steven, darling” his mother says, an excruciatingly long amount of time later, just as they move out of the table. He cringes when he hears his birth name “Your father and I have decided to go to Europe for the summer.”

Steve looks at them, not surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time they left for a long period of time.

“Oh?”

His father goes for the bar, pouring a nice shot of whiskey for himself as he elaborates “Your Uncle Percy and Aunt Mildred have been planning this trip for a while now, and they’ve invited us to tag along.”

“Sounds interesting” he replies, not really knowing what to say. He hadn’t thought on what to do with his summer, hasn’t spoken to Jonathan, nor Nancy, nor any of the kids. He almost laughs as the thought comes to him, realizing how much of his life came to revolve around those people without him even noticing.

“We’ll be going to New York by the end of May. Your father has to settle some business before we meet with them” his mother says. It is her way of letting Steve know that: one, he is not invited to the trip – he didn’t expect to be, he never was –; and two, when he will be left alone. “We’ll leave for Paris from there and I suspect we will be back by the end of the summer”

 _August, then. At the earliest_. At least three months without his parents.

Oh, well.

“I’m sure Aunt Mildred has planned a really nice trip for you guys”

This is not a lie, nor it is said as a pleasantry. He likes his father’s sister and her husband. They never had any children, and, despite being a bit pompous, had always been extra nice to Steve. He has fond memories of Christmas’ Eve in their fancy apartment on Upper East Side and summers spent in their house in Cape May County.

Wait.

If they are traveling to Europe for the summer, that means the house in New Jersey will be–

“Hey” he starts, prompting his father to look up to him from where he sits on the living room armchair and his mother to stop midmotion from turning the TV on “do you think the Avalon house will be empty? You know, since you guys are leaving so early in the season…”

Steve’s mind is reeling, going a thousand miles per hour, an idea taking root in his brain so deeply he can actually hear the gears turning inside his head.

“I guess so, yes…” his mother says, frowning a bit.

“And you think…” he is breathless, now, trying hard to sound nonchalant “you think they’d let me spend the summer there… with some friends?”

There is silence for what feels like a hundred years, his father still looking at him, mildly annoyed. And then…

“I don’t see why not” Jack Harrington puts down his whiskey glass and takes his unfinished newspaper back into his hands “Call them, though, to formally ask them” he says, not sparing his son another glance.

“It is the polite thing to do, darling” his mother adds.

“Yeah, sure!” he almost shouts, but refrains from continuing when his mother’s eyes bulge a little. No one shouts in the Harrington house. “I’ll, hum, call them right away.”

He walks slowly out of the living room, beelining to the phone in the hallway as soon as he is out of sight.

Steve takes the little black book with phone numbers neatly written in it – courtesy of Mrs. Linda Harrington – turning the pages to the “G” letter. Greenburgh, Percy and Mildred. He has to dial the numbers twice since his fingers are trembling a bit. On the third ring, someone answers.

“ _Greenburgh residence_ ” a flat voice says.

“Hi…” he struggles trying to remember the name of his Aunt and Uncle old maid, snapping his fingers until finally “Mrs Rogers! Hi, Mrs Rogers! It’s Steve, hum, Steve Harrington”

Silence form the other side of the line.

“Is my aunt there? Or, maybe my uncle?”

“ _Just a moment, please_ ” the maid says, again with the flat tone.

Steve starts moving from one side to the other, impatiently.

“ _Stevie! How nice for you to call!”_ his Aunt says, picking up the phone. _“How are you doing, my dear?_ ”

He small-talks with his aunt for a bit, letting her tell him all about how things are in New York, bringing up all the charming tricks he knows to have her in the best of her moods. He tries not to feel too bad about it.

“ _And what are you doing with your summer holidays?_ ” she asks, once they have conversed enough about her European destinations.

“You see, that’s the question, Aunt Mildred. I didn’t really know what to do. But then I remembered how I always had such a great time in Cape May County, and seeing as it’s been so long since I’ve been there, I was wondering if I could, maybe, spend the summer there?”

Not even one second later comes the high-pitched answer “ _Well, of course, of course! The house is always open for you!_ ”

Steve lets out a relieved sigh.

“Great! That’s… that’s great!”

“ _You’ll be inviting a few friends, I suppose?_ ” he can practically see his Aunt checking her nails as she speaks.

“Hum, yeah. If that’s okay with you guys. If not, I could–”

“ _Don’t be silly, dear. You can’t stay in that huge house alone. Tell me how many people, so I can have the rooms ready for when you all arrive_.”

Steve thinks for a bit, doing the math.

“Eleven”

 

*

 

Next Saturday, he tells the kids.

The windows of the cabin are open – a new setting, Eleven having convinced The Chief that there _really_ is no more danger, but mostly just saying the place becomes unbearably stifling by the day as they approach summer – a cool spring breeze coming in and ruffling their hair as some of them sit by the window.

Dustin had brought chocolate cigars, meaning he had automatically concluded their daily activities should revolve around playing poker.

“We’ll be like mobsters! Like Al Pacino, or something…”

“Do you even _know_ how to play poker, asswipe?” Steve had asked.

“Duh, no! Why do you think you’re here?”

So, Steve had spent the entire afternoon explaining the rules while Eleven and Will made the chips out of old cardboard boxes – they didn’t even consider the possibility of playing for real money.

After an enthusiastic start with the whole group playing, only Steve, Max and Dustin remain. Lucas had brought toy guns and Nancy is helping him improve his aim, practicing on a bullseye attached on the back of the front door. Mike is showing Jonathan some new melodies he had learned that week, the Gibson straps now permanently attached to the boy’s shoulder – Steve still smiles proudly every time he sees it – and Will and Eleven have all the pictures previously in the girl’s room arranged in front of them, planning a new collage.

Steve is looking intently at his hand of cards – it’s a nasty one, he was never really good at poker and Max is ripping both him and Dustin off – when the strings of Mike’s guitar still, Jonathan stops fiddling with the radio and the cabin is, for one moment, completely silent.

It’s his chance.

“Hey, Eleven?” he asks, loudly, cutting through the silence. He has been rehearsing all week how to bring this up with them. The girl looks up at him from her position in the room carpet. “Have you ever seen the ocean?”

The question, so out-of-the-blue as it is, stirs the others. The chocolate cigars hang low from both Max and Dustin’s mouths, the redheaded lowering Steve’s sunglasses she – for reasons he cannot fathom – had on to look him in the eye. Nancy and Lucas lower their toy guns and approach them while Mike, Will and Jonathan alternate their stares from both Steve and Eleven.

Eleven moves, kneeling, hands crossed on top of her legs, face completely blank – a countenance Steve has learned is one she assumes when she is her most focused – and shakes her head no.

He obviously knew what her answer would be.

Steve smiles a bit, put his cards on the table, not bothering to face them down, and moves closer to the brunette, lowering onto one knee to be eye-level with her.

 “Would you like to?” he still has the small grin on his face.

“What’s this all about, Steve?” Nancy inquires, probably tired of him being so cryptic, before Eleven has time to answer.

“Oh, you know… summer is just around the corner, you see, and I was wondering what are our summer plans…” Steve says, looking around to the inquisitive faces of his friends.

“ _Our_ plans?” Lucas questions, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

Smirking, he answers “You think I’d just bail and leave you lot behind to rot in the Indiana sun? Your opinion of me is really low, Sinclair…”

It’s lighthearted, but the boy looks mildly ashamed.

“What do you have in mind, Steve?” Jonathan, ever the pragmatic, goes straight to the point.

And then he asks the question he has been thinking about all week.

“Has _any_ of you dweebs ever seen the ocean?” quickly adding “apart from you, Maxie”

“Do _not_ call me… ghh!”

After Max mock-violently throws Steve’s sunglasses at him, there is silence. Steve knows for a fact Nancy and Mike had only ever been to lakes, nowhere near the ocean, his ex-girlfriend once confiding it to be a dream of hers, one she’d had plans to fulfill with Barb before everything went to hell. Jonathan, Will and Eleven are also certainties. He is taking a lucky guess with Lucas and Dustin, although it seems unlikely from what he had picked up along the past year from their conversations about past summers.

Steve is ready to continue, and then.

“I have”

Dustin’s voice is low, his eyes glued to the deck of cards still in his hands.

“I… I…” the boy takes a deep breath “I used to live in Philly… before the bank transferred my mother to Hawkins. And… and… my f-father” he pauses again to breathe raggedly and forcibly through his nose “my father would take us to Ocean City on holidays, or just to spend the day on a long weekend…” another pause, a small sniff “I was too small, don’t remember much. I just remember that… that we loved it…”

The room is silent again, but this time, it’s much heavier. It is so rare to see Dustin like this, so… broken. Steve knew very little about the boy’s father, that subject never popping up on their many, many conversations. The only thing he knows is that the man is gone.

Mike moves first, standing, leaving his guitar on the sofa and heading for the table. He takes Steve’s previous seat, extending a hand and tenderly putting it on top of Dustin’s trembling ones.

Looking at the curly-haired boy now, Steve thinks he might have misinterpreted the meaning of the word _gone_.

“My Aunt and Uncle have a beach house in Cape May County” he starts, looking around again, his gaze lingering on both Dustin and Eleven. “It will be empty during the summer… I just thought it would be nice, you know… if we went there. All of us… together”

Steve sees his friends exchanging looks, hesitating. Another moment passes and then _he_ is hesitating. Maybe he is rushing things, this is too sudden. Maybe this is not–

“Hey” Mike whispers to Dustin, low but still enough for them to hear. The boy has his head low, still trying to steady his breathing “New memories…” he bumps his shoulder to Dustin’s, prodding him with a soft smile “Together…”

Dustin raises his head, staring at Mike with tears still fresh on his eyes. Mike puts his arm around his shoulder, nodding until Dustin nods with him.

“Yeah…” he says, turning to look at Steve “Let’s do this…”

Steve gazes at the rest of their friends, waiting.

Lucas gets up, moving for the now more filled bookshelf and reaching for a map. “Isn’t Cape May County in New Jersey? Like, twenty hours away from here?”

 “Thirteen” on a good day. And Steve is not considering the traffic “I can drive, of course. And I’m sure Jonathan wouldn’t mind, too, right?”

Jonathan is a little taken aback, but recovers fast “Hum, sure… Road tripping”

“Exactly!” Steve exclaims, excitingly clapping his hands together “Road tripping is one of the best parts of the whole thing.”

There is another pause. He sees Nancy exchanging looks with Mike and Jonathan, before smiling.

“Why not… it’s not like we have any other big plans or something” Max gets up as she says it, gesturing to the others while they nod their agreements.

“What do you say, Eleven” Steve turns his attention back to the girl “would you like to see the ocean?”

She is still kneeling, still looks at him with all the focus she can muster. Being under her gaze like this is a tad bit overwhelming for him, but he stands his ground.

Her lips curl into a smile and she nods at him. “Yes”

“It’s a deal, then!”

Steve feels contentment overflowing him. And then…

“Hum, guys…?” Will’s tentative voice comes up “What about our parents?”

 

*

 

Contrary to popular believe, Steve had actually put quite a lot of thought on the subject before bringing it up to anyone. He knew the kids would be excited about the trip, but would be even more willing to go the extra mile it would take to get permission to go if it meant something special for Eleven. Hence the targeted questions for her the previous Saturday. That had been particularly important, since he knew he would obviously have to deal with the kids’ parents eventually. He just thought it would somehow be less difficult if the kids were completely onboard with him on this, that it would make things easier.

“So, let me get this straight in my head. You want to take my daughter on a road trip to the other side of the country, with a bunch of teenage boys for company, and the only one resembling an adult to supervise this whole thing is _yourself_?”

As he sits by the counter of the diner with Chief Hopper, the older man staring at him through a puff of cigarette smoke, eyes squinting threateningly, voice in a tone Steve is pretty sure is the same he uses to interrogate murder suspects, just looking _downright scary_ , he is not so sure.

“You know, when you say it like that, it sounds so much worse than it is…” The Chief raises one eyebrow “Technically, New Jersey is not the other side of the country… And Eleven would not be the only girl. Max and Nancy are joining” the death-glare directed at him does not falter, so Steve complements “And, of course, you and Mrs Byers are coming too.”

At this exact moment, Jonathan passes by them on the other side of the counter. Steve had chosen to meet The Chief at the diner Jonathan works just in case he needed some backup.

“Is your mother aware of all of this?” the older man inquires, gruffly.

Jonathan pours more coffee into his mug, shrugging and trying to sound nonchalant, but Steve notices his hands are a bit shaky.

“We wanted to talk with you first…I’ll… I’ll bring it up to her in the morning”

There is no point in talking to anyone else if Hopper says no.

The Chief huffs, putting out his cigarette and immediately going for another one. He keeps glaring at both Steve and Jonathan.

“I was just thinking” Steve pushes on “This could be the perfect opportunity for you to bring Eleven to people’s attention”

“The hell you’re talking about, Harrington?”

Steve perks up in his seat, trying – and failing – to stand taller next to Hopper.

“About her cover story” the one they had been told several times, now, the one they practically had memorized “She’s is your long-lost daughter from New York, right? That means you’ll eventually have to leave Hawkins to actually get her, right?”  

The Chief does not do him the honor of answering, probably realizing where this is going.

“New York is not so far away from Cape May County… People would find quite understandable if, for instance, you would take this new daughter of yours to meet with Mrs Byers children and their friends, who just happen to be spending the summer nearby. You know, just so she knows a few faces before she starts school in the fall…”

A few beats pass without any sound coming from his two interlocutors.

“What? It’s a good plan!” he sounds indignant. Jonathan stares at him for a bit, before excusing himself and moving to tend to the other costumers.

“Why would I bother with a twenty-hour drive to make up _a cover story for my cover story_?”

“What is wrong with you people? It’s _not_ a twenty-hour drive!” Steve retorts, flustered “What’s going to be your excuse when the kids start school and everyone notices they already know Eleven, huh?”

Reaching for his mug, The Chief shrugs his shoulders. “They’ll just have to pretend for a little while, that’s all…”

At that, Steve laughs, truly amused, gaining the attention again.

“And you trust them to be away from her on the day she’ll be most vulnerable to strangers ogling her? Do you trust _Mike_ to do that?”

Steve sees the moment the certainty in Hopper’s eyes waver and the man sighs.

“You know full well he won’t last five minutes” he says, confident, because he is one hundred per cent sure of this, reaching for his own mug of coffee for the first time. It’s cold and bitter by now, but he doesn’t mind. “It’s not even fair for you to ask them to be apart…”

“It’s still too much, kid. Too risky…”

“Look” Steve starts, letting out a frustrated sigh of his own “I know it looks like we’ll be… up to no good” he cringes at his choice of words, remembering again of his great-aunt Margaret “but it’s nothing like that, that’s not what I have in mind… what none of us have in mind” The Chief remains silent. Steve’s shoulder’s sag, not defeated, just… “I mean… aren’t you tired?”

His hand comes up, fingers massaging his temples “Yeah, kid, I’m tired. _Exhausted_ , to be precise. For several reasons. Which one are you referring to?”

“Everything! Of just being _here_ , constantly looking over our shoulders and _waiting_. Waiting for God knows what, for monsters to come, or the government to hunt us, or hell to break loose… Just _waiting_!”

Somehow, Steve’s outburst does not anger Hopper. “Waiting for a wig with curls or another chance?”

With the kids, Steve still struggles to understand their movies and book references. This one, though, this one he remembers.

“Yeah… something like that…”

“And your suggestion is to run away? Leave all behind? That’s not the bravest thing to do, you know…” he puts out his cigarette, turning to him.

Something in Steve’s chest pulls, constricting.

“I think they’re tired of being brave, too… and it’s not running away, it’s… escaping, for a while. Taking a break… Don’t you think they deserve a break?”

The Chief just stares at him, expression blank. He does that for a very long time, but Steve does his best to sustain the stare.

When he finally speaks, it’s in a low voice “You go. Take Nancy and Jonathan.”

“ _No_!” It’s a shout, some of the customers further down the counter turning to look at them. The glare The Chief spares him does not deter him. “No, no way. Either we all go, or no one goes.”

Like so many other things in their lives lately, this was yet another one they could only do together. Taking Nancy and Jonathan would be the easy thing to do, and he is kind of sick of that.

“Steve…”

“They’ve been brave enough, tough enough, hell, they’ve been _through_ enough, and all the while, they’ve been _patient_ enough” he explains, exasperated, moving his hands and arms, not caring much that he is almost making a scene “It’s time to be normal. And normal kids don’t spend their summer locked up in a cabin…”

He is saying _they_ , but, really, he means _we_. Because Steve has been through the same with them, every step of the way. And while he wouldn’t trade it for the world, while he had agreed with The Chief that this had been the best alternative, he can also feel that it has started to be too much for them all. They need this, this chance to be carefree and young and _normal_.

The silence stretches for so long, Steve thinks Hopper might have forgotten it is his turn to speak.

“Jane hasn’t got the results for her entrance exams yet...”

“Oh, c’mon, you know she’ll pass… She’s a goddamn genius!” at that, The Chief almost smiles.

Another long pause.

“You haven’t spoken to the other parents. If any of them says no, there’s no trip”

Steve sees a flicker of hope at the end of the tunnel.

“We’ll talk to them. First thing tomorrow”

Jonathan comes closer, his timing so good Steve suspects he might actually have heard the whole conversation.

“I can’t stay long… and I’m pretty sure Joyce can’t, either” his voice sounds vexed, as if he is agreeing to something against his will, but when they trade looks, Steve can almost swear he sees relief in them.

“We can go first, and then you’ll join us! We’ll stay for as long as you let us. Really, the amount of time you say is good, is good for us” now he is pretty sure he sounds like an overexcited puppy.

The Chief sighs for the millionth time, lights his hundredth cigarette and says, without looking at any of them.

“I’ll think about it…” both Steve and Jonathan beam “Hey! That’s _not_ a final answer. I just said I’ll think about it.”

Doesn’t matter, it’s more than enough and the two young men can’t stop smiling. A small, almost imperceptible grin appears on The Chief’s lips, before he shrugs it off.

“You know…” Hopper starts, pointing his cigarette at Steve “when you called me yesterday, I was pretty sure this meeting was about you making up your mind about that proposal from back in November…”

The _proposal_ is a job offering at Hawkins Police Department.

“ _I could use the help, you know… from someone who actually understands all this crap that’s going on…_ ” Hopper had said, covered in the ashes from the security tapes of Hawkins Lab they had just torched.

The idea had been in Steve’s head all this time, never forgotten, just… resting, like a latent virus, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spread and take over.

As he takes another sip of his cold coffee, Steve can’t help but smile.

“Maybe when the summer is over, I’ll invite you for another coffee.”

 

*

 

The last time Lucas pedaled this hard, this fast, he was rushing to Eleven’s aid from the Bad Men, almost two years ago.

Now, there are no more Bad Men, no one is at a mortal risk of any sort, and maybe – just maybe – Lucas has let his teenage hormones take over and this whole situation is not as dramatic and he feels it is, but he’s still going to the rescue of a girl, a different one, and he wonders if this has become a thing of his.

Mondays after school are reserved for A.V. Club, but today had been different. They _had_ tried, gathering in the dark room with their backpacks thrown on top of the table, looking for something to do with the assortment of projectors and speakers laying around. However, the moment Lucas had sat down, he’d felt his fingers tingling, his ears buzzing and the air in the room suddenly thinning. He shouldn’t be there, he _couldn’t_. He had started wriggling his hands together, staring impatiently into nothingness, until Mike had finally put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Go” he had said “We’ll be in the cabin. Let us know when it’s over”

And so, Lucas had left, breathless and exasperated, rushing in the direction of Max’s house in a speed he’d only thought possible in comic books and movies.

It had started on Saturday, when Max had arrived for their weekly meeting at Eleven’s house looking grim and subdued. It usually took a bit of coaxing for her to expose what was wrong with her, but this time, it had only taken the time for her to sit on the sofa, stiff as a board, and stare at her friends for her to blurt out that her mother had, after days and days of discussion, not allowed her to go to their summer trip.

There was dispute, of course, no one accepting that as a final answer. Amid the indignant shouts of their friends, Max’s voice had stood out, urging them with quivering lips to “please, leave it be. Just go without me”. Eleven was the first to stand, stating with a serious tone they would either go together, or not at all. And really, she’d only said it first because Lucas got distracted by the tears welling up in Max’s eyes, because two seconds later he was on his feet echoing Eleven’s words, followed closely by Steve. When the rest of the party had gotten up too, reiterating the sentiment, it had been too much for Max and the girl had burst into tears, covering her face with her hands as the sobs had taken control of her body.

There is a blue car speeding far ahead of him as he takes a turn to the left, Lucas keeping a firm grip on the bike’s handles while fighting the shiver that runs down his spine at the memory. Max so seldom let out how she is really feeling, to have seen her like that had broken his heart.

Because Max still is not fully convinced she is worthy of the friends she has, still does not grasp that they would do anything for her. Anything.

As it is, this is the reason he is heading for her house now. Not that he can do much, the issue is completely out of his hands. It’s up to Nancy – who is the person Max tells her mother she goes to during her sleepovers with Eleven – and Joyce to convince Mrs. Hargrove to allow Max to travel with them.

Max’s street comes into view and Lucas pedals faster, ignoring the pain in his muscles. This has to work, it just has to. Despite their initial hesitance, this trip has turned into a lifeline of sorts for them all. Never such a chance had presented itself to them: escaping, if only for a while, from bullies in school, abusive brothers, families falling apart. A chance to _be_ , or to try and figure out who they _are_ without the threat of a crisis. They just have to make sure they _all_ get that chance.

A bit more pedaling and Lucas can see Max’s house in the distance. He is almost there when he hears a hiss.

“Lucas! _Lucas_!”

Turning to the right and halting brusquely, he sees Steve Harrington’s dark red BMW parked a couple of houses before Max’s, the passenger window open as he signals frantically to Lucas.

“Steve?!”

“Get in here! Goddamn it, get in here!” it’s suppose to be a whisper, he thinks, but Steve is saying it forcibly between gritted teeth, like he is trying to be as quiet as possible and failing miserably.

Confused, Lucas stops the bike next to the car, looking through the open window “The hell you’re doing here, Steve?”

“Just get into the damn car” he sounds irritated, if a bit anxious, looking ahead of him as if expecting a blow even with the street completely empty.

Lucas guides the bike behind the car, dropping it onto the sidewalk before heading back to the passenger side and getting in, a crease between his brows.

“There, I’m in, now tell what the hell is going on” the older teen just looks ahead of him, lowering himself in the seat a bit “Steve… what are you doing here?” he repeats himself.

“Same as you, dipshit… I’m here for Max”

Oh, right. Lucas vaguely remembers Steve volunteering to drive Nancy and Max to pick up Joyce before heading for the redheaded’s place.

“Why aren’t you in there with them?”

“‘Cause I don’t think Mrs. Hargrove will be more inclined to let Max travel with us if a eighteen year old dude asks her permission for it” he says matter-of-factly “and it’s a good thing I didn’t…” he finishes pointing a finger to the blue car parked in front of Max’s house.

It is the same car Lucas saw before and now that he gets a closer look, he recognizes it.

Billy Hargrove.

“Shit…”

“Yeah… shit” Steve’s eyes never leave Max’s house “He went in some ten minutes ago”

Lucas ducks a little in his seat, mimicking Steve. They haven’t seen much of Billy in the past months, mostly due to the fact the bully had found a job as a mechanic in a garage right outside of Hawkins. However, Lucas still tenses every time he remembers their last encounter. Looking at Steve now, he’s pretty sure it is the same for him.

“He’s still in there?”

“Hasn’t come out so far, but I wouldn’t risk it… don’t think he’ll fancy seeing any of us here and as much as I’d love to be the one to teach you all about bravery and all that crap, I kind of like my face the way it is right now…”

At that, Lucas flinches a bit. He turns to look at Steve, the older boy with his eyes still fixed on the house ahead of them. This subject, the beating Steve took protecting Lucas and the others all those months ago, is a touchy one for him. They have never spoken about it, even though Steve has become such an integral part of their lives, always present one way or another. They have all kind of expected him to be there and, perhaps unintentionally, the appreciation for what Steve did (still does) for them never came.

It got worse over time for Lucas. Whenever Steve did something for the party, like going out of his way to drive them around town, buying every type of junk food for consecutive Saturdays just so Eleven could taste them all, planning a _freaking_ summer vacation for the whole group (an awesome one, for the record) and make sure they all get to go, Lucas felt a knot in his chest he could only name guilt. Because, even though none of them had verbally thanked Steve for his efforts, they had showed him, all in different but nonetheless significant ways. Mike and Will would talk to him endlessly and demonstrate their progress with their instruments, Max had her own inner jokes with him, he was Eleven’s favorite counselor for random subjects and Lucas was pretty sure Dustin looked at Steve as if the sun came out of his ass.

Not Lucas, though. He was always suspicious and sometimes even jittery around Steve. He can feel the lump in his chest right now.

It isn’t fair.

“Hey… hum…” he starts, waiting until the older teen looks at him.

It takes a while for him to turn to the right, his eyes still going back to stare at the house.

“Yeah?”

Lucas inhales. “Thanks” it comes out in a breath. Steve gaze finally centers on him, brows furrowing, confused.

“What exactly for?”

“For doing this for Max… for doing this, this trip, for all of us” Lucas takes another deep breath “for going against Billy” he could go on, the list is quite long “I don’t think we’ve ever thanked you for that. I know I didn’t… But we _are_ grateful. I guess, what I’m trying to say is… thank you… for everything…”

Steve just stares at him, flabbergasted, his mouth opening and closing like a fish for a few moments. Lucas is starting to regret saying anything when a loud bang is heard.

They turn in time to see Billy leaving the Hargrove/Mayfield household, the bang they just heard clearly being the front door he had just slammed.

“Shit! Duck!” Steve hisses, swiftly extending an arm to Lucas’s head to make sure he is out of sight.

The only sound around them is their skittish breathing and their raging heartbeat. Maybe that is why only moments after, they can hear a car door slamming and the starting of a car, followed suit by the sound of the screeching tires from Billy’s Camaro in the asphalt as it passes by them.

Steve risks a look through the back window.

“He’s gone…”

“He didn’t seem happy” Lucas mentions, sitting up, just before the front door of the house opens again and people start coming out.

He spots Nancy and Mrs. Byers, the latter smiling and turning with an extended hand to a redheaded woman he assumes is Mrs. Hargrove.

His heart starts racing again. This could only mean…

Lucas opens the door before he realizes what he is doing, moving in the direction of the women in a haste. He thinks for a second that maybe this is not the best of times to introduce himself to Max’s mother, but all thought escapes his mind once he sees Max herself leave the house and walk beside Nancy.

As if called upon – Lucas isn’t one hundred per cent sure he _hasn’t_ called out for Max – the girl looks up and sees him running in her direction. She turns, smiles at Nancy and then dashes towards him, red curls bouncing as she moves and a shit-eating grin on her face. The two of them meet halfway in the middle of the street, her arms encircling his neck the second they are close enough and knocking the air out of him.

“She said yes! She said yes!” Max almost shouts into his neck. He has to make an effort to keep them both upright, his hands enveloping her in a hug.

It’s another moment before he processes it.

“Really?!” he incredulously asks, disentangling himself from her.

“Really! It was all because of asshole Billy. She was not relenting until he came home and started yelling at her, shouting about the terrible mother she was, that she had no control over me, that she let me hang around scum like you guys…”

Lucas can almost feel his blood boiling with anger.

“I wanted to murder him” Max continues, taking both of his hands in hers “but then Nancy started shouting as well, saying what a terrible human being he was for threatening us all the time and beating the shit out of people who got on his way. That did it for my mother and she told him I was surrounded by people far better than him, and that I could hang out with them as much as I wanted.”

The grin on his face is so big it almost hurts. He can hardly believe it.

“This means… we go road tripping?”

“Yes!” Max throws her arms around his neck again, and this time, he returns it with the same enthusiasm, eyes closing and cheeks sinking in her fiery locks.

Lucas feels so relieved, he can barely breath properly. He doesn’t even know why, it’s just a summer trip, nothing life-changing, but it already means so much to him.

( _It is a life-changing event, one that will, one way or another, dictate how they will all live the rest of their lives, and Lucas will think back to this day in future years and ponder how he somehow knew._ )

He opens his eyes and sees Steve approaching, Nancy and Mrs. Byers in toe, talking animatedly, probably retelling the proceedings from moments ago, but Steve is not paying them much attention. His eyes are locked with Lucas and he has a soft smile on his lips.

“You’re welcome” he mouths, no voice coming out.

Lucas smiles in return, tightening his embrace on Max.

The lump inside his chest vanishes into thin air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book reference: Oh, the Places You'll Go - Dr. Seuss
> 
> Okay, I want to tell everyone that I haven’t not for one moment, abandoned this story. I am very keen on finishing it and I have the next three chapter all structured.
> 
> The last month or so has been filled with family tragedies and I honestly did not find the fun in doing much of anything. Still, I’ve read lots of great stories and fell even more in love with this fandom. Every hit, kuddo or comment you’ve left me in this time meant the world to me, so I want to THANK again everyone that stuck around.
> 
> On a side note, aside from the First Time story I’m lining up, I thought about two other prompts for Mileven AUs. One set in the Medieval Era, a setting similar to Ken Follet’s “The Pillars of the Earth”-like, to explore a bit of the personalities of the D&D characters of the party. The other to be set in Modern days, where El is a famous actress who in the past worked with Mike (as child actors?), but they have been apart for several years, and they meet up again as adults. These two ideas keep bugging me all the time and I would appreciate your input in it.
> 
> Again, a million thanks to all of you. You’re wonderful.


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